rrhrou^ the GRAND CANYON 
I from WYOMING to MEXICO 



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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



Through the Grand Canyon 
from Wyoming to Mexico 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO • DALLAS 
ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN & CO., Limited 

LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. 

TORONTO 




Copyright by Kolb Bros 
THE GRAND CANYON AT THE MOUTH OF HA VA SU CREEK 



Through the Grand Canyon 
from IVyoming to Mexico 



ETL. Kolb 

With a Foreword by Owen Wister 



With 48 Plates from Photographs 
by the Author and his brother 



New York 

The Macmillan Company 

igi4 

All rights reserved 



r-'7ss 



Copyright, 1914, 

By the macmillan company. 



Set up and electrotyped. Published October, 1914. 



^1^ 



Tfortaooli lltesa 

J. 8. Gushing Co. — Berwick & Smith Co. 

Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 



OCT 22 1914 

©C!.A387138 



H)eMcation 

TO THE MANY FRIENDS 

WHO " PULLED " FOR US, IF NOT WITH US 

DURING THE ONE HUNDRED ONE DAYS OF OUR RIVER TRIP 

THIS VOLUME 

IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 



\C| 









FOREWORD 

It is a twofold courage of which the author of this book 
is the serene possessor — shared equally by his daring brother ; 
and one side of this bravery is made plain throughout the 
following pages. Every youth who has in him a spark of 
adventure will kindle with desire to battle his way also from 
Green River to the foot of Bright Angel Trail ; while every 
man whose bones have been stiffened and his breath made 
short by the years, will remember wistfully such wild tastes 
of risk and conquest that he, too, rejoiced in when he was 
young. 

Whether it deal with the climbing of dangerous peaks, or 
the descent (as here) of some fourteen hundred miles of water 
both mysterious and ferocious, the well-told tale of a perilous 
journey, planned with head and carried through with daunt- 
less persistence, always holds the attention of its readers and 
gives them many a thrill. This tale is very well told. Though 
it is the third of its kind, it differs from its predecessors more 
than enough to hold its own : no previous explorers have 
attempted to take moving pictures of the Colorado River with 
themselves weltering in its foam. More than this : while the 
human race lasts it will be true, that any man who is lucky 
enough to fix upon a hard goal and win it, and can in direct 
and simple words tell us how he won it, will write a good book. 



viii FOREWORD 

Perhaps this planet does somewhere else contain a thing 
like the Colorado River — but that is no matter ; we at any 
rate in our continent possess one of nature's very vastest 
works. After The River and its tributaries have done with 
all sight of the upper world, have left behind the bordering 
plains and streamed through the various gashes which their 
floods have sliced in the mountains that once stopped their 
way, then the culminating wonder begins. The River has 
been flowing through the loneliest part which remains to us 
of that large space once denominated "The Great American 
Desert" by the vague maps in our old geographies. It has 
passed through regions of emptiness still as wild as they were 
before Columbus came; where not only no man lives now 
nor any mark is found of those forgotten men of the cliff's, 
but the very surface of the earth itself looks monstrous and 
extinct. Upon one such region in particular the author of 
these pages dwells, when he climbs up out of the gulf in whose 
bottom he has left his boat by the River, to look out upon a 
world of round gray humps and hollows which seem as if it 
were made of the backs of huge elephants. Through such a 
country as this, scarcely belonging to our era any more than 
the mammoth or the pterodactyl, scarcely belonging to time 
at all, does the Colorado approach and enter its culminating 
marvel. Then, for 283 miles it inhabits a nether world of its 
own. The few that have ventured through these places and 
lived are a handful to those who went in and were never seen 
again. The white bones of some have been found on the 



FOREWORD ix 

shores; but most were drowned; and in this water no bodies 
ever rise, because the thick sand that its torrent churns along 
clogs and sinks them. 

This place exerts a magnetic spell. The sky is there 
above it, but not of it. Its being is apart; its chmate ; its 
light ; its own. The beams of the sun come into it like vis- 
itors. Its own winds blow through it, not those of outside, 
where we live. The River streams down its mysterious 
reaches, hurrying ceaselessly ; sometimes a smooth sliding 
lap, sometimes a falling, broken wilderness of billows and 
whirlpools. Above stand its walls, rising through space upon 
space of silence. They glow, they gloom, they shine. Bend 
after bend they reveal themselves, endlessly new in endlessly 
changing veils of colour. A swimming and jewelled blue pre- 
dominates, as of sapphires being melted and spun into skeins 
of shifting cobweb. Bend after bend this trance of beauty 
and awe goes on, terrible as the Day of Judgment, sublime 
as the Psalms of David. Five thousand feet below the opens 
and barrens of Arizona, this canyon seems like an avenue con- 
ducting to the secret of the universe and the presence of the 
gods. 

Is much wonder to be felt that its beckoning enchantment 
should have drawn two young men to dwell beside it for many 
years ; to give themselves wholly to it; to descend and ascend 
among its buttressed pinnacles ; to discover caves and water- 
falls hidden in its labyrinths ; to climb, to creep, to hang in 
mid-air, in order to learn more and more of it, and at last 



X FOREWORD 

to gratify wholly their passion in the great adventure of this 
journey through it from end to end? No siren song could 
have lured travellers more than the siren silence of the Grand 
Canyon : but these young men did not leave their bones to 
whiten upon its shores. The courage that brought them out 
whole is plain throughout this narrative, in spite of its mod- 
esty ; but they have had to exert and maintain an equal cour- 
age against another danger. 

The Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railway is the most 
majestic system between Chicago and the Pacific. Years in 
advance of its imitators, it established along its course hotels 
and restaurants where both architecture and cooking made 
part of an immense plan that was something not far from 
genius. The very names of these hotels, chosen from the 
annals of the Spanish explorers, stamp them with distinction. 
Outside and in, they conform alike to climate and tradition. 
They are like shells in the desert, echoing the tale of Coro- 
nado, the legend of the Indian. No corporation equals the 
Santa Fe in its civilized regard for beauty. To any traveller 
asking what way to go to California for scenery, comfort, 
pleasure, and good food, I should answer, by this way. 

But is the Santa Fe wise in its persecution of the brothers 
Kolb ? Of course it has made the Grand Canyon accessible 
to thousands where only scores could go before. And for the 
money and the enterprise spent upon this, nobody but a 
political mad-dog would deny the railroad's right to a generous 
return. But why try to swallow the whole canyon ? Why, 



FOREWORD xi 

because the brothers Kolb are independent, crush their little 
studio, stifle their little trade, push these genuine artists and 
lovers of nature away from the Canyon that nobody has photo- 
graphed or can photograph so well ? This isn't to regard 
Beauty. You're hurting your own cause. 

The attempt, so far, has failed to extinguish these indepen- 
dent brothers. But is such an attempt wise ? Isn't it a good 
specimen of that high-handed disregard of everybody but 
yourself, which has bred (and partly justified) the popular 
rage that now undiscriminatingly threatens honest and dis- 
honest dollars alike, so that the whole nation is at the mercy 
of laws passed by the overdone emotions and the underdone 

intelligence of the present hour ? 

OWEN WISTER. 



PREFACE 

This is a simple narrative of our recent photographic trip 
down the Green and Colorado rivers in rowboats — our ob- 
servations and impressions. It is not intended to replace in 
any way the books published by others covering a similar 
journey. Major J. W. Powell's report of the original explo- 
ration, for instance, is a classic, literary and geological ; and 
searchers after excellence may well be recommended to his 
admirable work. 

Neither is this chronicle intended as a handbook of the 
territory traversed — such as Mr. F. S. Dellenbaugh's two^-*--^ 
volumes: "The Romance of the Grand Canyon," and "A 
Canyon Voyage." We could hardly hope to add anything 
of value to his wealth of detail. In fact, much of the data 
given here — such as distances, elevations, and records of 
other expeditions — is borrowed from the latter volume. 
And I take this opportunity of expressing our appreciation 
to Mr. Dellenbaugh for his most excellent and entertaining 
books. 

We are indebted to Mr. Julius F. Stone, of Columbus, ^^TT*"^ 
Ohio, for much valuable information and assistance. Mr. 
Stone organized a party and made the complete trip down 
the Green and Colorado rivers in the fall and winter of 1909, 



xiv PREFACE 

arriving at Needles, California, on November 27, 1909. 
He freely gave us the benefit of his experience and presented 
us with the complete plans of the boats he used. 

One member of this party was Nathan Galloway, of Rich- 
field, Utah. To him we owe much of the success of our 
journey. Mr. Galloway hunts and traps through the wilds 
of Utah, Colorado, and Arizona, and has a fame for skill and 
nerve throughout this entire region. He makes a yearly trip 
through the upper canyons, usually in a boat of his own con- 
struction ; and in addition has the record of being the only 
person who has made two complete trips through the entire 
series of canyons, clear to Needles. He it is who has worked 
out the type of boats we used, and their management in the 
dangerous waters of the Colorado. 

We have tried to make this narrative not only simple, as 
we say, but truthful. However, no two people can see things 
in exactly the same light. To some, nothing looks big ; to 
others, every little danger is unconsciously magnified out of 
all proportion. For instance, we can recall rapids which ap- 
peared rather insignificant at first, but which seemed decidedly 
otherwise after we had been overturned in them and had felt 
their power — especially at the moment when we were sure we 
had swallowed a large part of the water that composed them. 

The reader will kindly excuse the use of the first person, 
both singular and plural. It is our own story, after all, and 
there seems to be no other way than to tell it as you find it 
here. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER TACK 

I. Preparations at Green River City, Wyoming . i 

II. Interesting Sights of Southern Wyoming . 12 

III. The Gateway of all the Canyons ... 22 

IV. Suspicious Hosts ....... 36 

V. The Battle with Lodore ..... 50 

VI. Hell's Half Mile 64 

VII. Jimmy Goes Over the Mountain ... 71 

VIII. An Inland Excursion ...... 83 

IX. Canyon of Desolation ...... 93 

X. Hospitable Ranchmen ...... 102 

XI. Wonders of Erosion . . . . . . m 

XII. Could we Succeed ?...... 121 

XIII. A Companion Voyager ...... 129 

XIV. A Patient amid the Cataracts .... 142 
XV. Placer Gold . 156 

XVI. A Warning 169 

XVII. A Night of Thrills 178 

XVIII. Marble Halls and Marble Walls . . . 190 

XIX. Signalling our Canyon Home .... 203 

XX. One Month Later . . . . . . .219 

XXI. What Christmas Eve Brought . . . • 235 

XXII. Short of Provisions in a Sunless Gorge . . 249 

XXIII. The Last Portage and the Last Rapids . . 267 

XXIV. On the Crest of a Flood 280 

XXV. Four Days to Yuma 290 

XXVI. Across the Mexico Border .... 303 

XXVII. The Gulf of California ..... 321 

XV 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

The Grand Canyon near the mouth of Ha Va Su Creek 

Frontispiece l^ 

FACING PAGE 

After a difficult picture. E. C. Kolb on rope . . 2 v. 

In the Grand Canyon near the Little Colorado . . 6" 
The start at Green River, Wyoming . . . .10^ 

Fire hole chimneys . . . . . . . . iQi 

Boats and crew. Photo taken in the Grand Canyon . 20 • 

Inside of the first canyons . . . . . . 26 '^ 

Tilted rocks at Kingfisher Canyon ..... 26 

" Immense rocks had fallen from the cliff " ... 36 
The rocks were dark red ; occasional pines grew on the 

ledges, making a charming combination of colour . 40 </ 
" We stopped at one hay ranch close to the Utah-Colo- 
rado line" . . . . . . . .48 

Remarkable entrance to Lodore Canyon . . . 50 

" The river cut a channel under the walls " at Lower 

Disaster Falls . . . . . . . . 56 - 

" Everything was wet " . . . . . . -5^ 

"The canyon was gloomy and darkened with shreds of 

clouds" 64 '^ 

" It took nine loads to empty one boat " . . . 68 - 

"An upright log was found wedged between the boulders" 68 ■ 

Echo Cliffs. "This was the end of Lodore" . • 74 *" 

End of Echo Cliffs. The mouth of the Yampa River is 

on the right . . . . . . . . 74 " 

" Here was one end of the rainbow of rock that began 

on the other side of the mountains " . . . 78 ^ 



XVlll 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



FACING PAGE 



Each bed was placed in a rubber and a canvas sack 

Photo taken in Marble Canyon 
*' Now for a fish story " . 
Pat Lynch : the canyon hermit 
Skeleton found in the Grand Canyon 
The Buttes of the Cross 

The Land of Standing Rocks was like a maze 
Rocks overhanging the Colorado's Gorge 
Thirteen hundred feet above the Green River 
The junction of the two rivers. The Grand River is on 

the right ..... 
Looking west into Cataract Canyon 
Charles Smith and his boat 
Rapid No. 22 in Cataract Canyon . 
Camp in the heart of Cataract Canyon 
Lower Cataract Canyon. Boats tandem 
Beginning of a natural bridge. Glen Canyon 
Pictographs in Glen Canyon .... 
Rainbow Natural Bridge between the Colorado River 

and Navajo Mountain. Height three hundred and 

eight feet ; span two hundred and seventy feet 
Placer dredge at Lee's Ferry ..... 
The Soap Creek Rapid ; a little above lowest stage 

Photo published by permission of Julius F. Stone 
" It was too good a camp to miss "... 
Arch in Marble Canyon. Note figure on right 
Walls of Marble Canyon ..... 

Approaching the Grand Canyon. Note boat 
In the Grand Canyon below the Sockdologer Rapid 

Extreme height of wall about five thousand feet 
The Rust Tramway. Span four hundred and fifty feet 
Bright Angel Creek and Canyon 



84''' 

94/ 

106^^ 

114 -^ 

118 ►' 

122*^' 
122 V- 
124 V 

128' 

134' 
134 "^ 
140 
1 46' 

152 

152 
160 



168 
174 

188 
192 
192 
196 
202 

210 
214 

218 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



XIX 



FACING PAGE 



Rough water in Hermit Creek Rapid. Height of distant 
wave about fifteen feet .... 

Type of rapid in the granite, near Bass Trail 
The break in the Edith ..... 

Merry Christmas. The repair was made with bilge 

boards, canvas, paint, and tin 
Pulling clear of a rock ..... 

A shower bath ...... 

Grand Canyon at the mouth of Ha Va Su Canyon 
Medium high water. Frontispiece shows same 
place in low water ..... 

Lava Falls. Lava on left ; hot springs on right 

The last portage. The rocks were ice filmed. Note 

potholes ......... 

Watching for the signal fire. Mrs. Emery and Edith Kolb 
The Grand Canyon from the head of Bright Angel Trail 
The Cork Screw : lower end of Bright Angel Trail 
Zoroaster Temple : from the end of Bright Angel Trail . 
Ten miles from the Gulf of California. Coming up on a 
twenty-foot tide ....... 

Sunset on the lower Colorado River .... 



2221/ 
230 1/ 
240 <^ 

240"^ 

248 ^ 
248 '-^ 



250^ 

254 / 

270 v 
278 -^ 

284 V 

294 1/' 
31 



v/ 



330 



Through the Grand Canyon 
from Wyoming to Mexico 



THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM 
WYOMING TO MEXICO 

CHAPTER I 

PREPARATIONS AT GREEN RIVER CITY, WYOMING 

Early in September of 191 1 my brother Emery and I 
landed in Green River City, Wyoming, ready for the 
launching of our boats on our long-planned trip down the 
Green and Colorado rivers. 

For ten years previous to this time we had lived at 
the Grand Canyon of Arizona, following the work of 
scenic photography. In a general way we had covered 
much of the country adjacent to our home, following 
our pack animals over ancient and little-used trails, 
climbing the walls of tributary canyons, dropping over 
the ledges with ropes when necessary, always in search of 
the interesting and unusual. 

After ten years of such work many of our plans in 
connection with a pictorial exploration of the Grand 
Canyon were crowned with success. Yet all the while 
our real ambition remained unsatisfied. 



2 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

We wanted to make the "Big Trip" — as we called 
it ; in other words, we wanted a pictorial record of the 
entire series of canyons on the Green and Colorado rivers. 

The time had come at last, after years of hoping, 
after long months of active preparation. 

We stood at the freight window of the station at 
Green River City asking for news of our boats. They 
had arrived and could be seen in their crates shoved away 
in a corner. It was too late to do anything with them 
that day ; so we let them remain where they were, and 
went out to look over the town. 

Green River City proved to be a busy little place 
noisy with switch engines, crowded with cattle-men 
and cowboys, and with hunting parties outfitting for 
the Jackson Hole country. A thoroughly Western town 
of the better sort, with all the picturesqueness of people 
and surroundings that the name implies. 

It was busier than usual, even, that evening; for 
a noisy but good-natured crowd had gathered around the 
telegraph office, eager for news of a wrestling match 
then taking place in an Eastern city. As we came up 
they broke into a cheer at the news that the American 
wrestler had defeated his foreign opponent. There was 
a discussion as to what constituted the *' toe-hold," 
three boys ran an impromptu foot-race, there was some 
talk on the poor condition of the range, and the party 
began to break up. 




( 'opyright by Kolb Bros. 
AFTER A DIFFICULT PICTURE. E. C. KOLB ON THE ROPE. 



GREEN RIVER CITY, WYOMING 3 

The little excitement over, we returned to the hotel ; 
feeling, in spite of our enthusiasm, somewhat lonesome 
and very much out of place. Our sleep that night was 
fitful and broken by dreams wherein the places we had 
known were strangely interwoven with these new scenes 
and events. Through it all we seemed to hear the roar 
of the Rio Colorado. 

We looked out of the window the next morning, on 
a landscape that was novel, yet somehow familiar. The 
river, a quarter of a mile away, very clear and unruffled 
under its groves of cottonwood, wound through low 
barren hills, as unlike as could be to the cliffs and chasms 
we knew so well. But the colours — gray, red, and umber, 
just as Moran has painted them — reassured us. We 
seemed not so far from home, after all. 

It was Wyoming weather, though ; clear and cold, 
after a windy night. When, after breakfast, we went 
down to the river, we found that a little ice had formed 
along the margin. 

The days of final preparation passed quickly — 
with unpacking of innumerable boxes and bundles, 
checking off each article against our lists ; and with a long 
and careful overhauling of our photographic outfit. 

This last was a most important task, for the success 
of our expedition depended on our success as photog- 
raphers. We could not hope to add anything of impor- 
tance to the scientific and topographic knowledge of the 



4 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

canyons already existing : and merely to come out alive 
at the other end did not make a strong appeal to our 
vanity. We were there as scenic photographers in love 
with their work, and determined to reproduce the marvels 
of the Colorado's canyons, as far as we could do it. 

In addition to three film cameras we had 8 X lo and 
5X7 plate cameras ; a plentiful supply of plates and 
films ; a large cloth dark-room ; and whatever chemicals 
we should need for tests. Most important of all, we 
had brought a motion-picture camera. We had no real 
assurance that so delicate an apparatus, always difficult 
to use and regulate, could even survive the journey — 
much less, in such inexperienced hands as ours, repro- 
duce its wonders. But this, nevertheless, was our secret 
hope, hardly admitted to our most intimate friends 
— that we could bring out a record of the Colorado 
as it is, a live thing, armed as it were with teeth, ready to 
crush and devour. 

There was shopping to do ; for the purchases of pro- 
visions, with a few exceptions, had been left to the last. 
There were callers, too — an embarrassing number of 
them. We had camped on a small island near the town, 
not knowing when we did so that it had recently been 
put aside for a public park. The whole of Green River 
City, it seemed, had learned of our project, and came to 
inspect, or advise, or jeer at us. The kindest of them 
wished us well ; the other sort told us "it would serve us 



GREEN RIVER CITY, WYOMING 5 

right" ; but not one of our callers had any encouragement 
to offer. Many were the stories of disaster and death 
with which they entertained us. One story in particular, 
as it seems never to have reached print — though un- 
questionably true — ought to be set down here. 

Three years before two young men from St. Louis had 
embarked here, intending to follow the river throughout 
its whole course. They were expert canoeists, powerful 
swimmers, and equipped with a steel boat, we were told, 
built somewhat after the style of a canoe. They chose 
the time of high water — not knowing, probably, that 
while high water decreases the labour of the passage, it 
greatly increases the danger of it. They came to the first 
difficult rapid in Red Canyon, seventy odd miles below 
Green River City. It looked bad to them. They landed 
above it and stripped to their underclothing and socks. 
Then they pushed out into the stream. 

Almost at once they lost control of the boat. It over- 
turned ; it rolled over and over ; it flung them off and 
left them swimming for their lives. In some way, pos- 
sibly the currents favouring, they reached the shore. The 
boat, with all its contents, was gone. There they were, 
almost naked, without food, without weapons, without the 
means of building a fire ; and in an uninhabited and 
utterly inhospitable country. 

For four days they wandered, blistered by the sun by 
day; nearly frozen at night, bruised by the rocks, and 

\ 



6 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

torn by the brambles. Finally they reached the ranch 
at the head of the canyons and were found by a half- 
breed Indian, who cared for them. Their underwear 
had been made into bindings for their lacerated feet ; 
they were nearly starved, and on the verge of mental 
collapse. After two weeks' treatment in the hospital 
at Green River City they were partially restored to health. 
Quite likely they spent many of the long hours of their 
convalescence on the river bank, or on the little island, 
watching the unruffled stream glide underneath the cot- 
tonwoods. 

Such tales as this added nothing to our fears, of course 
— for the whole history of the Colorado is one long story 
of hardship and disaster, and we knew, even better than 
our advisors, what risks lay before us. We told our new- 
found friends, in fact, that we had lived for years on the 
brink of the Grand Canyon itself, a gorge deeper and more 
awful, even, than Lodore ; with a volume of water ten 
times greater. We knew, of course, of the river's vast 
length, of the terrible gorges that confined it, of the 
hundreds of rapids through which a boat would have 
to pass. 

We knew, too, how Major Powell, undismayed by 
legends of underground channels, impassable cataracts, 
and whirlpools ; of bloodthirsty tribes haunting its re- 
cesses, — had passed through the canyons in safety, meas- 
uring and surveying as he went. We also knew of the 





Copyright by Kolb Bros. 
IN THE GRAND CANYON NEAR THE LITTLE COLORADO. 



GREEN RIVER CITY, WYOMING 7 

many other attempts that had been made — most of them 
ending in disaster or death, a very few being successful. 

Well, it had been done ; ^ it could be done again — this 
was our answer to their premonitions. 

We had present worries enough to keep us from dwell- 
ing too much on the future. It had been our intention to 
start two weeks earlier, but there had been numerous 
unavoidable delays. The river was low; "the lowest 
they had seen it in years" they told us, and falling lower 
every day. There were the usual difficulties of arranging 
a lot of new material, and putting it in working order. 

At last we were ready for the boats, and you may be 
sure we lost no time in having them hauled to the river, 
and launching them. 

They were beauties — these two boats of ours — grace- J^t^uus 
ful, yet strong in line, floating easily, well up in the water,'^^;*'^^ J" , 
in spite of their five hundred pounds' weight. They were 
flat-bottomed, with a ten-inch rake or raise at either 
end ; built of white cedar, with unusually high sides ; 
with arched decks in bow and stern, for the safe storing 

^ The various expeditions which are credited with continuous or complete Journeys 
through all the canyons and the dates of leaving Green River, Wyoming, are as follows : 

Major Powell, ist journey. May 24, 1869. 

Major Powell, 2nd journey. May 22, 1871. Discontinued at Kanab Canyon 
in the Grand Canyon. 

Galloway. Sept. 20, 1895 and 1896. 

Flavell. Aug. 27, 1896. 

Stone. Sept. 12, 1909. 

Kolb. Sept. 8, 191 1. 

For a more complete record of the earlier parties see appendix. 



i W- 






8 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

of supplies. Sealed air chambers were placed in each end, 
large enough to keep the boats afloat even if filled with 
water. The compartment at the bow was lined with tin, 
carefully soldered, so that even a leak in the bottom would 
not admit water to our precious cargoes. We had placed 
no limit on their cost, only insisting that they should be 
of materials and workmanship of the very best, and 
strictly in accordance with our specifications. In every 
respect but one they pleased us. Imagine our consterna- 
tion when we discovered that the hatch covers were 
anything but water-tight, though we had insisted more 
upon this, perhaps, than upon any other detail. Loose 
boards, with cross-pieces, fastened with little thumb- 
screws — there they were, ready to admit the water at 
the very first upset. 

There was nothing to be done. It was too late to 
rebuild the hatches even if we had had the proper ma- 
terial. Owing to the stage of water it was imperative 
that we should start at once. Bad as it would be to have 
water in our cargo, it would be worse to have too little 
water in the rock-obstructed channels of Red Canyon, or 
in the "flats" at Brown's Park for instance. 

Certainly the boats acted so beautifully in the water 
that we could almost overlook the defective hatches. 
Emery rowed upstream for a hundred yards, against a 
stiff current, and came back jubilant. 

"They're great — simply great !" he exclaimed. 



GREEN RIVER CITY, WYOMING 9 

We had one real cause for worry, for actual anxiety, 
though ; and as each hour brought us nearer to the time of 
our departure, we grew more and more desperate. What 
about our third man ? 

We were convinced that a third man was needed ; if 
not for the duties of camp making, helping with the cook- 
ing and portaging ; at least, for turning the crank of the 
motion-picture camera. Emery and I could not very 
well be running rapids, and photographing ourselves in 
the rapids at the same time. Without a capable assistant, 
therefore, much of the real purpose would be defeated. 

Our first move, accordingly, had been to secure the 
services of a strong, level-headed, and competent man. 
Friends strongly advised us to engage a Canadian canoe- 
man, or at least some one familiar with the management 
of boats in rough water. It was suggested, also, that we 
might secure the help of some one of the voyagers who 
had been members of one of the previous expeditions. 

But — we may as well be frank about it — we did not 
wish to be piloted through the Colorado by a guide. We 
wanted to make our own trip in our own way. If we 
failed, we would have no one but ourselves to blame ; if 
we succeeded, we would have all the satisfaction that 
comes from original, personal exploration. In other 
words, we wanted a man to execute orders, not to give 
them. But that man was hard to find ! 

There had been many applicants ; some of them from 



lO THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

distant parts of the country. One by one they were 
sifted out. At length we decided on one man ; but later 
he withdrew. We turned elsewhere, but these appli- 
cations were withdrawn, until there remained but a 
single letter, from a young man in San Francisco. He 
seemed in every way qualified. We wrote accepting his 
application, but while waiting to hear from us a civil 
service position had been oifered and accepted. "He 
was sorry"; and so were we, for his references proved 
that he was a capable man. Later he wrote that he had 
secured a substitute. We replied on the instant, by wir- 
ing money for transportation, with instructions for the 
new man to report at once at Green River. We took very 
much for granted, having confidence in our friends' sin- 
cerity and knowledge of just what was required. 

The time had passed, two days before ; but — no sign 
of our man ! We wrote, we telegraphed, we walked back 
and forth to every train ; but still he did not come. Had 
this man, too, failed us ? 

Then "Jimmy" came — just the night before we were 
to leave. And never was a man more heartily welcome ! 

With James Fagen of San Francisco our party was 
complete. He was an Irish-American, aged 22 years, a 
strong, active, and willing chap. To be sure, he was 
younger, and not so experienced at "roughing it" as we 
had hoped. But his good qualities, we were sure, would 
make up for what was lacking. 



Kll&Mfe. 



^iA ,-!j-j«nr»»rr;I3i;/ 




THE START AT GREEN RIVER, WYOMING. 




FIRE HOLE CHIMNEYS. 



GREEN RIVER CITY, WYOMING II 

Evening found us encamped a half mile below the town, 
near the county bridge. Our preparations were finished 
— even to the final purchase of odds and ends ; with am- 
munition for shot-gun and rifle. We threw our sleeping- 
bags on the dry ground close to the river's edge, and, all our 
anxieties gone, we turned our faces to the stars and slept. 

At daybreak we were aroused by the thunder of hoofs 
on the bridge above us, and the shouts of cowboys driv- 
ing a large herd of half-broken horses. We tumbled into 
our clothes, splashed our faces with ice-cold water from 
the river, and hurried over to the hotel for a last breakfast. 

Then we sat down — in the little hotel at Green River 
City — as others had done before, to write last messages 
to those who were nearest and dearest to us. A telegram 
to our parents in an Eastern city ; and another to Emery's 
wife and little girl, at Bright Angel, more than eight 
hundred miles down this self-same river — these, some- 
how, took longer to write than the letters themselves. 
But whatever we may have felt, we finished this final 
correspondence in silence, and hurried back to the river. 

Something of a crowd had gathered on the bridge to 
wish us bon voyage. Shouting up to them our thanks for 
their hospitality, and telling them to "look pleasant," 
we focussed the motion-picture camera on them, Emery 
turning the crank, as the boat swung out into the current. 

So began our journey, on Friday, September the 8th, 
191 1, at 9.30 A.M., as entered in my journal. 



CHAPTER II 

INTERESTING SIGHTS OF SOUTHERN WYOMING 

All this preparation — and still more, the vexatious 
delays ' — had been a heavy tax upon us. We needed a 
vacation. We took it — six pleasant care-free days — 
hunting and fishing as we drifted through the sixty miles 
of southern Wyoming. There were ducks and geese on 
the river to test our skill with the shot-gun. Only two 
miles below Green River City Emery secured our first 
duck, a promise of good sport to follow. An occasional 
cottontail rabbit was seen, scurrying to cover through 
the sage-brush, when we made a detour from the boats. 
We saw many jack-rabbits too — with their long legs, 
and exaggerated ears — creatures swifter, even, than the 
coyotes themselves. 

We saw few people, though an occasional rancher hailed 
us from the shore. Men of the open themselves, the 
character of our expedition appealed to them. Their 
invitations to "come up to the ranch, and spend the 
evening" were always hearty, and could seldom be re- 
fused if the day was nearly gone. 

13 



INTERESTING SIGHTS OF SOUTHERN WYOMING 13 

The Logan boys' ranch, for instance, was our first 
camp ; but will be one of the last to be forgotten. The 
two Logan boys were sturdy, companionable young men, 
full of pranks, and of that bubbling, generous humour 
that flourishes in this Western air. We were amused by 
their kindly offer to allow Jimmy to ride "the little bay" 
— a beautiful animal, with the shifty eye of a criminal. 
But Jimmy, though city-bred, was not to be trapped, and 
declined ; very wisely, as we thought. We photographed 
their favourite horses, and the cabin ; also helped them 
with their own camera, and developed some plates in 
the underground storm-cellar, — a perfect dark-room, as 
it happened. 

We took advantage of this pleasant camp to make a 
few alterations about our boats. Certain mechanical 
details had been neglected in our desire to be off, our 
intention being to look after them as occasion demanded. 
Our short run had already shown us where we were weak 
or unprepared. The rowlocks needed strengthening. 
One had come apart in our first brush with a little riffle. 
The rowlocks were of a little-used type, but very service- 
able in dangerous waters. Inside the usual rowlock a 
heavy ring was hung, kept in place by strong set-screws, 
but allowing full play in every direction. These rings 
were slipped over the oars ; then the usual leather collar 
was nailed on the oar, making it impossible for the rings 
to become separated from the oars. The holes for the 



14 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

set-screws were too shallow, so we went over the entire 
lot to deepen them. We foresaw where a break might 
occur, and hung another lock of the open type on a cord, 
beside each oar, ready for instant use in case of emergency. 

The Logan boys, seeing our difficulties in making some 
of these changes, came to our relief. "Help yourselves 
to the blacksmith shop," they said heartily. Here was 
an opportunity. Much time was consumed in providing 
a device to hold our extra oars — out of the way on top 
of the deck, but available at a moment's notice. Thanks 
to the Logan boys and their blacksmith shop, these and 
many other little details were corrected once for all ; and 
we launched our boats in confidence on the morning of 
September lo. 

A few miles below we came to the locally famous Fire 
Hole Chimneys, interesting examples of the butte forma- 
tion, so typical of the West. There were several of these 
buttes, about 800 feet high, composed of stratified rock ; 
in colour quite similar to the rocks at Green River City, 
but capped with rock of a peculiar burnt appearance, 
though not of volcanic origin. Some of the buttes sloped 
up from the very edge of the river ; others were separated 
from the river by low flats, covered with sage-brush and 
bunch-grass, — that nutritious food of the range stock. 
At the water's edge was the usual fringe of willows, cot- 
tonwoods, and shrubs innumerable, — all mirrored in the 
limpid surface of Green River. 



INTERESTING SIGHTS OF SOUTHERN WYOMING 15 

At the foot of the cliffs were a number of wild burros, 
old and young — fuzzy little baby-burros, looking ridic- 
ulously like jack-rabbits — snorting their indignation 
at our invasion of their privacy. Strange, by the way, 
how quickly these wild asses lose their wildness of carriage 
when broken, and lapse into the utmost docility ! 

Just below the Chimneys Emery caught sight of fish 
gathered in a deep pool, under the foliage of a cottonwood 
tree which had fallen into the river. Our most tempting 
bait failed to interest them ; so Emery, ever clever with 
hook and line, "snagged" one just to teach them better 
manners. It was a Colorado River salmon or whitefish. 
That evening I "snagged" a catfish and used this for 
salmon bait, a fourteen-pound specimen rewarding the 
attempt. 

These salmon were old friends of ours, being found from 
one end to the other of the Colorado, and on all its tribu- 
taries. They sometimes weigh twenty-five or thirty 
pounds, and are common at twenty pounds ; being 
stockily built fish, with large, flat heads. They are not 
gamey, but afford a lot of meat with a very satisfying 
flavour. 

On September 11, about forty miles below Green River, 
we passed Black's Fork, a tributary entering from the west. 
It is a stream of considerable length, but was of little 
volume at that time. The banks were cliffs about 300 
feet high, rugged, dark, and overhanging. Here were a 



1 6 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

half dozen eagles and many old nests — proof enough, 
if proof were needed, that we were in a little visited 
country. What strong, splendid birds they were ; how 
powerful and graceful their flight as they circled up, and 
up, into the clear blue sky 1 

Our next camp was at the Holmes' ranch, a few miles 
below Black's Fork. We tried to buy some eggs of 
Walter Holmes, and were told that we could have them 
on one condition — that we visit him that evening. 
This was a price we were only too glad to pay, and the 
evening will linger long in our memories. 

Mr. Holmes entertained us with stories of hunting 
trips — after big game in the wilds of Colorado ; and 
among the lakes of the Wind River Mountains, the 
distant source of the Green River. Mrs. Holmes and 
two young ladies entertained us with music ; and Jimmy, 
much to our surprise, joined in with a full, rich baritone. 
It was late that night when we rolled ourselves in our 
blankets, on the banks twenty feet above the river. 

Next morning we were shown a group of Mrs. Holmes' 
pets — several young rabbits and a kitten, romping 
together in the utmost good fellowship. The rabbits 
had been rescued from a watery grave in an irrigation 
ditch and carefully nursed back to life. We helped her 
search for a lame wild duck that had spurned the offer 
of a good home with civilized ducklings, and had taken 
to the sage-brush. Mrs. Holmes' love of wild animals, 



INTERESTING SIGHTS OF SOUTHERN WYOMING 17 

however, failed to include the bald-headed eagle that 
had shown such an appetite for her spring chickens. 

A few miles below this ranch we passed Bridger Cross- 
ing, a ford on an old trail through southern Wyoming. 
In pioneer days Jim Bridger's home was on this very 
spot. But those romantic days are long since past ; 
and where this world-famous scout once watched through 
the loopholes of his barricade, was an amazed 3^oungster 
ten or eleven years old who gazed on us, then ran to the 
cabin and emerged with a rifle in his hands. We thought 
little of this incident at the time, but later we met the 
father of the boy and were told that the children had been 
left alone with the small boy as their only protector, and 
that he stood ready to defend the home against any 
possible marauders. No doubt we looked bad enough 
to him. 

Just below the ford the channel widened, and the 
river became very shallow, the low rolling hills falling 
away into a wide green prairie. We camped that night on 
a small island, low and treeless, but covered with deep, 
rank grass. Next morning our sleeping-bags were wet 
with frost and dew. A hard pull against a heavy wind 
between gradually deepening rocky banks made us more 
than glad to pitch camp at noon a short distance above 
the mouth of Henry's Fork, a considerable stream flowing 
from the west. In the afternoon Emery and I decided 
to walk to Linwood, lying just across the Utah line, four 



1 8 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

miles up Henry's Fork. Jimmy preferred to remain 
with the boats. 

Between the river and a low mesa lay a large ranch of 
a different appearance from those others which we had 
passed. Those past were cattle ranches, with stock on 
the open range, and with little ground fit for cultivation, 
owing to the elevation. Here we found great, broad acres, 
fenced and cultivated, with thoroughbred stock — horses 
and cattle — contentedly grazing. 

This pastoral scene, with a background of rugged 
mountains, appealed strongly to our photographic in- 
stincts. After three or four exposures, we climbed the 
farthest fence and passing from alfalfa to sage-brush in 
one step, were at the foot of the mesa. 

Climbing to the summit, we beheld the village in the 
distance, in a beautiful green valley — a splendid example 
of Mormon irrigation and farming methods. Linwood 
proved to be the market-place for all the ranchers of this 
region. Dotting the foot-hills where water was less plen- 
tiful were occasional cabins, set down in the middle of 
hay ranches. All this husbandry only emphasized the 
surrounding desolation. Just beyond, dark in the south- 
ern sky, rose the great peaks of the Uintah range, the 
mountains we were so soon to enter. 

Storm-clouds had been gathering about one great snow- 
covered peak, far in the distance. These clouds spread 
and darkened, moving rapidly forward. We had taken 



INTERESTING SIGHTS OF SOUTHERN WYOMING 19 

the hint and were already making all possible haste tow- 
ard the town,] hoping to reach it before the storm broke. 
But it was useless. Long before we had gained the edge 
of the valley the rain had commenced in the mountains, 
— small local storms, resembling delicate violet-coloured 
veils, hung in the dense pall of the clouds. There were 
far flashes of lightning, and the subdued roar of distant 
thunder, rapidly growing louder as the storm approached. 
Unable to escape a drenching, we paused a moment to 
wonder at the sight ; to marvel — and shrink a little 
too — at the wild, incessant lightning. The peaks them- 
selves seemed to be tumbling together, such was the 
continuous roar of thunder, punctuated by frequent 
deafening crashes. 

Then the storm came down upon us. Such torrents 
of rain we have seldom witnessed : such gusts of driving 
wind ! At times we could scarcely make headway against 
it, but after most strenuous eifort we neared the village. 
We hoped to find shelter under a bridge, but found in- 
numerable muddy streams running through the planks. 
So we resumed our plodding, slipping and sliding in the 
black, bottomless mud. 

The storm by this time had passed as quickly as it 
came. Wet to our skins, we crawled into the little store 
and post-office combined, and found it filled with ranch 
hands, waiting for the weekly mail. We made a few 
purchases, wrote some letters, then went to a large board- 



20 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

ing-house near by and fortified ourselves with a generous, 
hot supper. 

There were comments by some of the men on our 
venture, but they lacked the true Green River tang. 
Here, close to the upper canyons, the unreasonable fear 
of the rapids gave way to a reasonable respect for them. 
Here we heard again of the two young men from St. 
Louis, and the mishaps that had befallen them. Here 
too we were to hear for the first time of the two Snyders, 
father and son, and the misfortunes that had overtaken 
them in Lodore Canyon, twenty years before. We were 
to hear more of these men later. 

We made what haste we could back to our boats, 
soon being overtaken by a horseman, a big-hearted 
Swede who insisted on carrying our load as long as we 
were going in his direction. How many just such in- 
stances of kindliness we were to experience on our journey 
down the river ! How the West abounds with such men ! 
It was dark when he left us a mile from the river. Here 
there was no road to follow, and we found that what had 
been numerous dry gullies before were now streams of 
muddy water. Two or three of these streams had to be 
crossed, and we had a disagreeable half hour in a marsh. 
Finally we reached the river, but not at the point where 
we had left our boats. We were uncertain whether the 
camp was above or below us, and called loudly for Jimmy, 
but received no answer. 



INTERESTING SIGHTS OF SOUTHERN WYOMING 21 

Emery felt sure that camp was upstream. So up- 
stream we went, keeping back of the bushes that 
fringed the banks, carefully searching for a sign. After 
a few minutes' hunt we heard a sound : a subdued rumble, 
not unlike the distant thunder heard that afternoon, or 
of boats being dragged over the pebbles. What could it 
be } We listened again, carefully this time, and dis- 
covered that it came from a point about thirty feet away, 
on the opposite side of the bushes. It could be only one 
thing. Jimmy's snore had brought us home ! 

Hurriedly securing some dry clothes from the rubber 
sacks, which contained our sleeping-bags as well, we made 
a quick change, and slid into the beds, inflating the air 
mattresses with our lungs after we were inside. Then we 
lay down contentedly to rest. 



CHAPTER III 

THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 

We awoke the next morning full of anticipation. 
Something new lay ahead of us, a promise of variety. 
In plain sight of our camp lay the entrance to Flaming 
Gorge, the gateway to the entire series of canyons. 
Hurriedly finishing our camp duties, we loaded the boats, 
fastened down the hatches, and shoved off into the cur- 
rent, eager to be on our way. 

It was cloudy overhead and looked as if we were to 
have more rain. Even then it must have been raining 
away to the north, for a dirty, clay-colored torrent rushed 
through the dry arroyo of the night before, a stream large 
enough to discolour the water of the Green itself. But we 
thought little of this. We were used to seeing muddy 
water in the Colorado's gorges ; in fact we were surprised 
to find clear water at all, even in the Green River. Row- 
ing downstream we found that the country sloped gently 
towards the mountains. The river skirted the edge of 
these foot-hills as if looking for a possible escape, then 
turned and entered the mountain at a sharp angle. The 



THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 23 

walls sloped back considerably at first, and there was a 
little shore on either side. 

Somewhere near this point runs the dividing line of 
Wyoming and Utah. 

We considered the gateway a subject worthy of a 
motion picture, if taken from the deck of the boat ; but 
doubted if it would be a success owing to the condition 
of the light and the motion of the boat. Still it was 
considered worthy of a trial, and the film was run through. 

The colour of the rocks at the entrance was a light red, 
but not out of the ordinary in brilliancy. The rock 
formation was stratified, but displaced ; standing at an 
angle and flexed over on top with a ragged break here and 
there, showing plainly the great pressure to which the 
rocks had been subjected. The upheaval was not violent, 
the scientists tell us, but slow and even, allowing the 
river to maintain its old channel, sawing its way through 
the sandstone. The brdken canyon walls, when well 
inside the gorge, were about 600 to 700 feet high. The 
mountains beyond and on either side were much higher. 
The growth on the mountain sides was principally ever- 
green ; Douglas fir, the bull-pine and yellow pine. There 
was a species of juniper, somewhat different from the Utah 
juniper, with which we were familiar at the Grand Canyon. 
Bushes and undergrowth were dense above the steep 
canyon walls, which were bare. Willows, alder-thickets, 
and a few cottonwood trees lined the shores. 



24 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

Meanwhile the current had quickened, almost imper- 
ceptibly at first, but enough to put us on our guard. 
While there were no rapids, use was made of what swift 
water we found by practising on the method we would 
use in making a passage through the bad rapids. As to 
this method, unused as yet by either of us, we had re- 
ceived careful verbal instruction from Mr. Stone, who had 
made the trip two years before our own venture ; and 
from other friends of Nathan Galloway, the trapper, 
the man who first introduced the method on the Green 
and Colorado rivers. 

Our experience on water of any kind was rather 
limited. Emery could row a boat, and row it well, before 
we left Green River, but had never gone over any large 
rapids. While he was not nearly so large or heavy as I, 
— weighing no more than 130 pounds, while I weighed 170 
pounds, — he made up for his lighter weight by a quick- 
ness and strength that often surprised me. He was 
always neat and clever in his method of handling his boat, 
taking a great deal of pride in keeping it free from marks, 
and avoiding rocks when making a landing. I had done 
very little rowing before leaving Green River, so little 
that I had difficulty in getting both oars in the water at 
the same time. Of course it did not take me long to 
learn that ; but I did not have the knack of making clean 
landings, and bumped many rocks that my brother 
missed. Still I was improving all the time and was 



THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 25 

anxious to get into the rough water, feeling sure I would 
get through somehow, but doing my best in the mean- 
time to get the knack of handling the boat properly before 
the rough water was reached. 

An occasional rock would stick up above the surface ; 
the swift water would rush up on it, or drive past on either 
side. Instead of pulling downstream with might and 
main, and depending on a steersman with a sweep-oar 
to keep us clear of obstructions — the method usually 
adopted on large rivers, and by the earlier parties on the 
Colorado — by our method the single oarsman reversed 
his boat so that it was turned with the stern downstream, 
giving the oarsman a view of what was ahead ; then by 
pulling upstream the boat was held in check. We 
allowed ourselves to be carried in a direct line with the 
rocks ahead, approaching them as closely as we dared; 
then, with a pull on one oar, the boat was turned slightly 
at an angle to the current, and swung to one side or the 
other ; just as a ferry is headed into the current, the water 
itself helping to force it across. The ferry is held by a 
cable ; the boat, by the oarsman ; the results are quite 
similar. 

The boats, too, were somewhat unusual in design, hav- 
ing been carefully worked out by Galloway after much ex- ^^^"T^ 
perience with the problem, and after building many boats. ^ 
He finally settled on the design furnished us by Mr. 
Stone. The flat bottom, sloping up from the centre to 



<»-«/(.« 



26 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

either end, placed the boats on a pivot one might say, so 
that they could be turned very quickly, much more 
quickly than if they had had a keel. There was a four- 
foot skag or keel under the stern end of the boat, but 
this was only used when in quiet water ; and as it was 
never replaced after being once removed we seldom refer 
to it. Being flat-bottomed, they drew comparatively 
little water, a matter quite important on low water such 
as we found in the Green River. While each boat carried 
a weight of seven hundred pounds in addition to its own 
five hundred pounds, they often passed over rocks less 
than ten inches below the surface, and did so without 
touching. While the boats were quite large, the arched 
decks made them look even larger. A considerable 
amount of material could be stored under these decks. 
The only part of the boat that was entirely open or un- 
protected from the waves was the cockpit, or mid-section 
occupied by the oarsman. This was only large enough 
for one man. A second man had to sit on the deck behind 
the oarsman, with his feet hanging into the cockpit. 
Jimmy occupied this place of honour as we drifted through 
the placid water ; first on one boat, then on the other, 
entertaining us meanwhile with his songs. 

We encountered two splashy little rapids this day, 
but with no rocks, or any dangerous feature whatever. 
Any method, or none at all, was safe enough in these 
rapids. 



THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 27 

The colouring of the rocks changed as we proceeded, 
and at the lower end of the short canyon we saw the flam- 
ing patch of colour that had suggested its name to Major 
Powell, forty-two years before. Intensified on that occa- 
sion by the reflected light of a gorgeous sunset, it must 
have been a most brilliant spectacle. 

Two beavers slid into the water when we were close 
beside them, then rose to the surface to stare curiously 
when we had passed. We left them undisturbed. Some 
geese decoyed us into an attempt to ambush them, but 
they kept always just out of reach of our guns. Wise 
fellows, those geese ! 

A geological fault accompanied by the breaking down 
of the walls marks the division between Flaming Gorge 
and Horseshoe Canyon, which immediately follows. 
We nooned here, opposite a deserted cabin. A trail 
dropped by easy stages over the slope on the east side ; 
and fresh tracks showed that sheep had recently been 
driven down to the water's edge. 

Passing through Horseshoe, — another very short 
canyon, — we found deep, placid pools, and sheer, light 
red walls rising about four hundred feet on either side, 
then sloping back steeply to the tree-covered mountains. 
In the middle of this canyon Emery was startled out of a 
day-dream by a rock falling into the water close beside 
him, with never a sound of warning. Years spent in the 
canyons had accustomed Emery and me to such occur- 



28 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

rences ; but Jimmy, unused to great gorges and towering 
cliffs, was much impressed by this incident. After all, 
it is only the unusual that is terrible. Jimmy was ready 
enough to take his chances at dodging bricks hurled by a 
San Francisco earthquake, but never got quite used to 
rocks descending from a source altogether out of sight. 
Small wonder, after all ! Later we were to experience 
more of this thing, and on a scale to startle a stoic ! 

We halted at the end of Horseshoe, early in the after- 
noon of September 14, 191 1, one week out from Green 
River City. Camp No. 6 was pitched on a gravelly 
shore beside Sheep Creek, a clear sparkling stream, 
.coming in from the slopes of the Uintah range. Just 
above us, on the west, rose three jagged cliffs, about 
five hundred feet high, reminding one by their shape of the 
Three Brothers of Yosemite Valley. Here, again, we were 
treated to another wonderful example of geologic dis- 
placement, the rocks of Horseshoe Canyon lying in level 
strata ; while those of Kingfisher, which followed, were 
standing on end. Sheep Creek, flowing from the west, 
finds an easy course through the fault, at the division 
of the canyons. The balance of this day was spent in 
carefully packing our material and rearranging it in our 
boats, for we expected hard work to follow. 

Tempted by the rippling song of the brook, and by 
tales of fish to be found therein, we spent two hours 
fishing from its banks on the morning of the 15th. But 



THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 



29 



the foliage of overhanging trees and shrubs was dense, 
making it difficult to cast our lines, or even to climb along 
its shores, and our small catch of two trout, which were 
fried with a strip of bacon to add flavour, only whetted our 
appetites for more. 

It was a little late in the season for many birds. Here 
in Kingfisher Canyon were a few of the fish-catching birds 
from which the canyon took its name. There were 
many of the tireless cliff-swallows scattered all through 
these canyons, wheeling and darting, ever on the wing. 
These, with the noisy crested jays, an occasional "camp- 
robber," the little nuthatches, the cheerful canyon wren 
with his rollicking song, the happy water-ousel, "kill- 
deer," and road-runners and the water birds, — ducks, 
geese, and mud-hens, with an occasional crane, — made up 
the bird life seen in the open country and in these upper 
canyons. Earlier in the season it must be a bird's paradise, 
for berries and seeds would then be plentiful. 

We resumed our journey at 10 a.m., a very short run 
bringing us to the end of Kingfisher Canyon. The three 
canyons passed through approximate hardly more than 
ten miles in length, different names being given for geo- 
logical reasons, as they really form only one canyon. 
The walls at the end were broken down, and brilliantly 
tinted talus of many hues covered the slopes, the different 
colours intermingling near the bottom. The canyon-walled 
river turned southeast here, and continued in this gen- 



30 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

eral direction for many miles, but with many twists 
and turns. 

We had previously been informed that Red Canyon, 
the next to follow, while not considered bad when com- 
pared to others, gave one the experience most necessary 
to combat the rapids farther down. It was not without 
danger, however, as a review of previous expeditions 
showed : some had lost their lives, still others, their 
boats ; and one of Major Powell's parties had upset a 
boat in a Red Canyon rapid. The stage of water was 
so different on these previous attempts that their experi- 
ences were of little value to us one way or the other. A 
reference to pictures taken by two of these parties showed 
us there was considerable more water when they went 
through — six, and even eight feet higher in places. 
Possibly this would be the best stage on which to make 
the voyage in heavy boats. The unfortunate ones had 
taken the spring rise, or flood water, with disastrous 
results to themselves or their boats. 

We soon found that our passage was to be hard on 
account of having too little water. In the quiet water 
above we had been seldom bothered with shoals ; but 
now that we were in swifter water, there was scarcely 
any depth to it at all, except in the quiet pools between 
the rapids. 

For a description of our passage through this upper 
end of Red Canyon we refer to our journal : sketchy 



THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 3 1 

notes jotted down, usually in the evening just before 
retiring, by the light of a camp-fire, or the flickering flame 
of a candle. Under the date of Friday, September the 
15th, we find the following : 

"End of Kingfisher: long, quiet pools and shoals 
where we grounded a few times ; several small, splashy 
rapids ; then a larger one near an old boat landing. 
Looked the rapid over from the shore. Jim remained 
at the lower end with a life-preserver on a rope, while we 
ran the rapid. Struck one or two rocks, lightly ; but 
made the run in safety." 

" At the third rapid we saw some geese — but they 
got away. At noon we ate a cold lunch and because of 
the low water removed the skags, carrying them in the 
cockpit. The scenery in upper Red Canyon is impres- 
sive : pines and fir come down on the sloping sides to the 
river's edge ; the rocks are reddish brown in colour, often 
broken in squares, and looking like great building blocks 
piled one upon another. The canyon is about fifteen 
hundred feet deep ; the river is clear again, and averages 
about two hundred feet in width. We have seen a few 
deer tracks, but have not seen any deer. We also saw 
some jumping trout in a splashy little rapid. Doubtless 
they came from a little creek, close by, for we never heard 
of trout being found in the Green River," 

" We made a motion picture, while dropping our boats 
down with lines, over the first rapid we considered bad. 



32 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

Emery remained in the boats, keeping clear of the rocks 
with a pole. Powell's second party records an upset here." 
" We passed Kettle Creek about 5 p.m. In the fifth rapid 
below Kettle Creek I got on the wrong side of the river 
and was carried into a very rocky rapid — the worst so far 
encountered. I touched a rock or two at the start, 
but made the run in safety; while Emery ran the op- 
posite side without trouble. We camped beside a small 
stream on the south, where there were signs of an old 
camp." 

" Saturday, September 16. Clear and cold in the early 
morning. Started about 9 a.m. Lined our boats past 
a difficult rapid. Too many rocks, not enough water. 
Two or three miles below this I had some difficulty in a 
rapid, as the pin of a rowlock lifted out of the socket 
when in the middle of rough water. Emery snapped a 
picture just as it happened. A little later E. C} ran 
a rocky rapid, but had so much trouble that we con- 
cluded to line my boat. Noon. Just a cold lunch, but 
with hot coffee from the vacuum bottles. Then at it 
again." 

" The scenery is wonderful ; the canyon is deeper than 
above ; the river is swift and has a decided drop. We 
proceed cautiously, and make slow progress. We camp 

^ The initials E. C. apply to my brother, Emery C. Kolb ; E. L. to myself. These 
initials are frequently used in this text. For several years the nick-name " Ed " has 
been applied to me, and in my brothers' narratives I usually figure as Ed. 



THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 33 

for the day on the north side close to a little, dry gully, 
on a level sage and bunch-grass covered bottom back 
from the river's edge. An abruptly descending canyon 
banked with small cottonwood trees coming in from the 
opposite side contains a small stream. Put up our tent 
for the second time since leaving Green River, Wyoming. 
We are all weary, and glad to-morrow is Sunday — a day 
of rest." 

" Sunday, September 77. E. C. and I follow a fresh 
deer track up a game trail and get — a rabbit. Climb out 
about 1300 feet above the river to the top of the 
narrow canyon. Here is a sloping plateau, dotted with 
bunch-grass and grease-wood, a fourth of a mile wide. 
Then rounded mountains rise beyond the plateau, some 
of the peaks reaching a height of 4000 feet above the river. 
The opposite side is much the same, but with a wider 
plateau. We had no idea before what a wonderful coun- 
try this is. It is a picture to tempt an artist. High on 
the mountain tops is the dark blue-green of pines and 
firs, reds and yellows are mixed in the quaking aspen, — 
for the frost comes early enough to catch the sap in the 
leaves ; little openings, or parks with no trees, are tinted 
a beautiful soft gray ; ' brownstone fronts ' are found in 
the canyon walls ; and a very light green in the willow- 
leafed cottonwoods at the river's edge, and in all side 
canyons where there is a running stream. The river 
glistens in the sunlight, as it winds around the base of the 



34 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

wall on which we stand, and then disappears around a 
bend in the canyon. Turn where we will, we see no sign 
of an opening, nothing but the rounded tops of wooded 
mountains, red and green, far as the eye can reach, until 
they disappear in the hazy blue. Finally Emery's 
keen eyes, aided by the binoculars, discover a log cabin 
at the foot of a mountain, on the plateau opposite us, 
about three miles away." 

" We hurry back to camp and write some letters ; then 
Jim and I cross the river and climb out over the rocky 
walls to the plateau above. In two hours we reach the 
cabin. It is new — not yet finished. A woman and four 
children are looking over a garden when we arrive. They 
are a little frightened at first, but soon recover. The 
woman gladly promises to take out our mail when they 
go to the nearest town, which happens to be Vernal, 
Utah, forty-five miles away. Three other families live 
near by, all recently moved in from Vernal. The woman 
tells us that Galloway hunts bear in these timbered moun- 
tains, and has killed some with a price on their heads — 
bear with a perverted taste for fresh beef." ^ 



1 It is not unusual for certain individual animals to be outlawed or to have a price 
set on their heads by the stockmen's associations, in addition to the regular bounty 
paid by the counties. At the time this is written there is a standing reward of ^200 
for a certain "lobo," or timber wolf which roams over the Kaibab Forest directly 
opposite our home in the Grand Canyon. In addition to this there is a bounty of j5io 
offered by the county. This wolf has taken to killing colts and occasional full-grown 
horses, in addition to his regular diet of yearling calves. 



THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 35 

" Thanking the woman, we make our way back to the 
river. We see some dried-out elk horns along our trail ; 
though it is doubtful if elk get this far south at present. 
A deer trail, leading down a ravine, makes our homeward 
journey much easier. It has turned quite cold this 
evening, after sunset. We finish our notes and prepare 
to roll into our beds a little earlier than usual." 



CHAPTER IV 



SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 



We awoke bright and early the next morning, much 
refreshed by our day of rest and variety. With an early 
start we were soon pulling down the river, and noon found 
us several miles below the camp, having run eleven rapids 
with no particular difficulty. A reference in my notes 
reads: "Last one has a thousand rocks, and we could 
not miss them all. My rowing is improving, and we 
both got through fairly well." In the afternoon they 
continued to come — an endless succession of small rapids, 
with here and there a larger one. The canyon was similar 
to that at our camp above, dark red walls with occasional 
pines on the ledges, — a most charming combination 
of colour. At 2.30 P.M. we reached Ashley Falls, a rapid 
we had been expecting to see for some time. It was a 
place of singular beauty. A dozen immense rocks had 
fallen from the cliff on the left, almost completely block- 
ing the channel — or so it seemed from one point of view. 
But there was a crooked channel, not more than twelve 

36 



\ \ 



SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 37 

feet wide in places, through which the water shot like a 
stream from a nozzle. 

We wanted a motion picture of our dash through the 
chute. But the location for the camera was hard to 
secure, for a sheer bank of rock or low wall prevented us 
from climbing out on the right side. We overcame this 
by landing on a little bank at the base of the wall and by 
dropping a boat down with a line to the head of the 
rapid, where a break occurred in the wall. Jimmy was 
left with the camera, the boat was pulled back, and we 
prepared to run the rapid. 

We first had to pass between two square rocks rising 
eight feet above the water so close together that we could 
not use the oars ; then, when past these, pull ten feet to 
the right in order to clear the large rock at the end of 
the main dam, or barrier, not more than twenty feet be- 
low. To pull down bow first and try to make the turn, 
would mean to smash broadside against this rock. It 
could only be done by dropping stern first, and pulling 
to the right under the protection of the first rocks ; though 
it was doubtful if even this could be accomplished, the 
current was so swift. The Defiance was ready first, the 
Edith was to follow as closely as safety allowed. 

Almost before I knew it I was in the narrow channel, 
so close to the right rock that I had to ship that oar, 
and pull altogether on the left one. As soon as I was 
through I made a few quick strokes, but the current was 



38 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

too Strong for me ; and a corner of the stern struck with 
a bang when I was almost clear. She paused as a wave 
rolled over the decks, then rose quickly ; a side current 
caught the boat, whirling it around, and the bow struck. 
I was still pulling with all my might, but everything 
happened so quickly, — with the boat whirling first this 
way, then that, — that my eiforts were almost useless. 
But after that second strike I did get in a few strokes, 
and pulled into the quiet pool below the line of boulders. 

Emery held his boat in better position than I had done, 
and it looked for a while as if he would make it. But 
the Edith struck on the stern, much as mine had done. 
Then he pulled clear and joined me in the shelter of the 
large rock, as cool and smiling as if he had been rowing 
on a mill-pond. We were delighted to find that our boats 
had suffered no damage from the blows they had received. 
Striking on the ends as they did, the shock was dis- 
tributed throughout the whole boat. 

This completed our run for that day, and we went 
into camp just below the "Falls." Emery painted the 
name Edith on the bow of his boat, at this camp. 
The name was given in honour of his four-year-old daugh- 
ter, waiting for us at the Grand Canyon. I remarked 
that as no one loved me, I would name my boat the 
Defiance. But I hesitated about putting this name 
on the bow. I would look rather foolish, I thought, if 
the Defiance should be wrecked in the first bad rapid. 



SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 39 

So the christening of my boat was left until such time as 
she should have earned the title, although she was con- 
stantly referred to as the Defiance. 

We remained until noon of the following day at Ashley 
Falls, exploring, repairing, and photographing this pic- 
turesque spot. The canyon walls here dropped down to 
beautiful, rolling foot-hills eight or nine hundred feet 
high, tree covered as before but more open. The diver- 
sity of rocks and hills was alluring. There was work to 
be done and no pleasanter spot could be found in which 
to do it. Among other things that had to be looked after 
were some adjustments to the motion-picture camera — 
usually referred to by us as the M, P. C. — this deli- 
cate work always falling to Emery, for he alone could 
do it. 

There was much to interest us here. Major Powell 
reported finding the name "Ashley" painted under an 
overhanging rock on the left side of the river. Under- 
neath was a date, rather indistinct, but found to have 
been 1825, by Dellenbaugh, after carefully tracing the 
career of Colonel Ashley who was responsible for the 
record. Accompanied by a number of trappers, he made 
the passage through this canyon at that early day. We 
found a trace of the record. There were three letters — 
A-s-h — the first two quite distinct, and underneath were 
two black spots. It must have been pretty good paint 
to leave a trace after eighty-six years ! 



40 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

Resuming our journey we passed into deep canyon 
again, — the deepest we had found up to this time, — with 
steeply sloping, verdure-covered walls about 2700 feet high. 
The rapids still continued. At one rapid the remark was 
made that "Two feet of water would cover two hundred 
rocks so that our boats would pass over them." But we 
did not have the two feet needed. ^ 

We had previously been informed that some of these 
mountains were the hiding-places of men who were 
"wanted" in the three states which bordered near here. 
Some escaping prisoners had also been traced to the moun- 
tains in this direction ; then all tracks had ceased. The 
few peaceable ranchers who lived in these mountains 
were much alarmed over these reports. We found one 
such rancher on the plateau above the canyon, whom we 
will call Johnson for convenience, — living in one of the 
upper canyons. He sold us some provisions. In return 
he asked us to help him swim some of his horses across 
the river. He said the high water had taken out his own 
boat. The horses were rounded up in a mountain-hidden 
valley and driven into the water ahead of the boat. 
After securing the horses, Johnson's welcome seemed to 
turn to suspicion and he questioned our reasons for being 
there, wanting to know what we could find in that wild 
country to interest us. Johnson's sons, of whom there 
were several, seemed to put in most of their time at hunt- 
ing and trapping, never leaving the house without a gun. 




( opyright by Kolo Br 



THE ROCKS WERE DARK RED : OCCASIONAL PINES GREW ON THE LEDGES. MAKING 
A CHARMING COMBINATION OF COLOUR. 



SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 4I 

The cabin home looked like an arsenal, revolvers and guns 
hanging on all the walls — even his daughters being famil- 
iar with their use. Although we had been very well 
treated after all, Mrs. Johnson especially having been 
very kind to us, we felt just a little relieved when the 
Johnson ranch was left behind. We use, in fact, a ficti- 
tious name, not caring to visit on them the suspicions 
we ourselves felt in return. 

Another morning passed in repairing the M. P. camera, 
and another afternoon's work was necessary to get us 
out of the walls and the rapids of Red Canyon. But on 
the evening of the 20th, we did get out, and pulled into 
an open country known as Brown's Park, one week after 
entering Flaming Gorge. It had not been very fast 
travelling ; but we were through, and with no mishap 
more serious than a split board on the side of my boat. 
Under favourable conditions, and in experienced hands, 
this distance might have been covered in three days. 
But meanwhile, we were gaining a lot of experience. 

About the lower end of Red Canyon the river turned 
directly east, paralleling the northern boundary of Utah, 
and continued to flow in this general direction until it 
crossed into Colorado. 

On emerging from Red Canyon we spied a ranch 
house or log cabin close to the river. The doors were 
open and there were many tracks in the sand, so we 
thought some one must be about. On approaching the 



42 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

house, however, we found the place was deserted, but 
with furniture, books, and pictures piled on the floor in 
the utmost confusion, as if the occupants had left in a 
great hurry. This surmise afterward proved to be cor- 
rect ; for we learned that the rancher had been murdered 
for his money, his body having been found in a boat 
farther down the river. Suspicion pointed to an old 
employee who had been seen lurking near the place. 
He was traced to the railroad, over a hundred miles to the 
north ; but made his escape and was never caught. 

We found Brown's Park, once known as Brown's Hole, 
to be a beautiful valley several miles in width, and 
thirty-five or forty miles in length. The upper end of 
the valley was rugged in places, with rocky hills two or 
three hundred feet high. To the south, a few miles away, 
were the mountains, a continuation of those we had come 
through. We saw many cattle scattered over some of 
these rocky hills, grazing on the bunch-grass. At one 
place our course led us through a little canyon about 
two miles long, and scarcely more than two hundred 
feet deep. This was Swallow Canyon — a name suggested 
by the many birds of that species which had covered the 
canyon's walls with their little clay nests. The open- 
ings of some of these nests were so small that it scarcely 
seemed possible for a bird to enter. 

The water was deep and quiet in this short canyon, 
and a hard wind blowing up the stream made it difficult 



SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 43 

for us to gain any headway. In this case, too, the forms 
of the boat were against us. With the keel removed and 
with their high sides catching the wind, they were carried 
back and forth like small balloons. Well, we could put 
up with it for a while, for those very features would 
prove most valuable in the rough-water canyons which 
were to follow ! 

Emerging from the canyon at last, we saw a ferry 
loaded with sheep crossing the stream. On the left 
shore was a large corral, also filled with sheep which a 
half dozen men were driving back and forth into dif- 
ferent compartments. Later these men told us there 
were 2400 sheep in the flock. We took their word for it, 
making no attempt to count them. The foreman of 
the ranch agreed to sell us some sugar and honey, — 
these two articles being a welcome addition to our list 
of supplies, which were beginning to show the eflfects 
of our voracious appetites. 

We found many other log cabins and ranches as we 
proceeded. Some of them were deserted ; at others men 
were busily engaged in cutting hay or the wild grass that 
grew in the bottoms. The fragrance of new-mown hay 
was in the air. Young boys and women were among 
these busy workers, some of the women being seated on 
large harvesters, handling the horses with as much dex- 
terity as any of the men. 

The entire trip through this pretty valley was full 



44 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

of interest. We were hailed from the shore by some of 
the hay ranchers, it being a novel sight to them to see a 
river expedition. At one or two of these places we 
asked the reason for the deserted ranches above, and 
were given evasive answers. Finally we were told that 
cattle rustlers from the mountains made it so hard for 
the ranchers in the valleys that there was nothing for 
them to do but get out. They told us, also, that we were 
fortunate to get away from Johnson's ranch with our 
valuables ! Our former host, we were told, had com- 
mitted many depredations and had served one term for 
cattle stealing. Officers, disguised as prospectors, had 
taken employment with him and helped him kill and 
skin some cattle ; the skins, with their telltale brands, 
having been partially burned and buried. On this 
evidence he was afterwards convicted. 

Our cool welcome by the Johnsons, their suspicions 
of us, the sinister arsenal of guns and pistols, all was 
explained ! Quite likely some of these weapons had 
been trained against us by the trappers on the chance 
that we were either officers of the law, or competitors 
in the horse-stealing industry. For that matter we were 
actually guilty of the latter count, for come to think of it, 
we ourselves had helped them steal eight horses and a 
colt ! 

The entire trip through this pretty valley was full of 
interest. It was all so different from anything seen above. 



SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 45 

There were great bottoms that gave evidence of having 
recently been overflooded, though now covered with 
Cottonwood trees, gorgeous in their autumn foliage. We 
had often wondered where all the driftwood that floated 
down the Colorado came from ; but after seeing those 
unnumbered acres of cottonwoods we ceased to wonder. 

There were many beaver slides on the banks ; and 
in places, numberless trees had been felled by these In- 
dustrious animals. On one or two occasions we narrowly 
escaped splitting the sides of our boats on snags of trees 
which the beavers had buried in the bottom of the stream. 
We saw no beaver dams on the river ; they were not 
necessary, for deep, quiet pools existed everywhere in 
Brown's Park. We saw two beavers in this section. 
One of these rose, porpoise-like, to the top of the water, 
stared at us a moment, then brought his tail down with a 
resounding smack on the top of the water, and disappeared, 
to enter his home by the subterranean route, no doubt. 

The river was gradually losing its clear colour, for the 
sand-bars were beginning to "work out," or break, mak- 
ing the water quite roily. In some sections of Brown's 
Park we grounded on these sand-bars, making it neces- 
sary for us to get out into the water, pushing and pulling 
on the boats until deeper water was reached. Sometimes 
the deep water came when least expected, the sand-bars 
having a disconcerting way of dropping off abruptly on 
the downstream side. Jimmy stepped off the edge 



46 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

of one of these hidden ledges while working with a boat, 
and was for some time in no condition to appreciate our 
ill-concealed mirth. 

Often we would be passing along on perfectly smooth 
water, when suddenly a turmoil would rise all about us, 
as though a geyser had broken out below the surface. 
If we happened to be directly over it, the boat would be 
rocked back and forth for a while ; then all would be 
peaceful again. This was most often caused by the 
ledges of sand, anywhere from three to ten feet high, 
breaking down or falling forward as their bases were 
undermined. In a single night a bar of this kind will 
work upstream for a distance of several feet ; then the 
sand will be carried down with the current to lodge again 
in some quiet pool, and again be carried on as before. 
This action gives rise to long lines of regular waves or 
swells extending for some distance down the stream. 
These are usually referred to as sand-waves. These 
waves increase in size in high water ; and the monotonous 
thump, thump of the boat's bottom upon them is any- 
thing but pleasant, especially if one is trying to make 
fast time. 

So, with something new at every turn, we pulled lazily 
through Brown's Park, shooting at ducks and geese when 
we came near them, snapping our cameras when a pic- 
ture presented itself, and observing the animal life along 
the stream. 



SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 



47 



We stopped at one hay-ranch close to the Utah-Colo- 
rado line and chatted awhile with the workers. A pleasant- 
faced woman named Mrs. Chew asked us to deliver a 
message at a ranch a mile or two below. Here also 
was the post-office of Lodore, Colorado, located a short 
distance above the canyon of the same name. Mrs. 
Chew informed us that they had another ranch at the 
lower end of Lodore Canyon and asked us to look them 
up when we got through, remarking : 

"You may have trouble, you know. Two of my sons 
once tried it. They lost their boat, had to climb out, 
and nearly starved before they reached home." 

The post-office at the ranch, found as described, 
without another home in sight, was a welcome sight to 
us for several reasons. One reason was that it afforded 
shelter from a heavy downpour of rain that greeted us as 
we neared it, and a better reason still was, that it gave 
us a chance to write and mail some letters to those who 
would be most anxious to hear from us. 

Among the messages we mailed was a picture post- 
card of Coney Island at night. In some way this card 
had slipped between the leaves of a book that I had 
brought from the East. I sent it out, addressed to a 
friend who would understand the joke ; writing under- 
neath the picture, "We have an abundance of such scenery 
here." The young woman who had charge of the office 
looked at the card in amazement. It was evidentlv some- 



48 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

thing new to her. She told us she had never been to the 
railroad, and that her brother took the mail out on horse- 
back to Steamboat, Colorado, 140 miles distant. 

The rain having ceased, we returned to our boats, 
pausing to admire a rainbow that arched above the 
canyon in the mountains, toward which we were headed. 
We remarked, jokingly, to Jimmy that this was a good 
sign. He replied without smiling that he "hoped so." 
Jimmy's songs had long since ceased, and we suspected 
him of homesickness. With the exception of a short 
visit to some friends on a large ranch, Jimmy had never 
been away from his home in San Francisco. This pres- 
ent experience was quite a contrast, to be sure ! We did 
what we could to keep him cheered up, but with little 
success. Jimmy had intimated that he would prefer 
to leave at the first opportunity to reach a railroad, and 
we willingly agreed to help him in every possible way. 
Emery and I also agreed between ourselves that we would 
not take any unnecessary risks with him ; but would 
leave him out of the boats at all rapids, if there was any 
passage around them. 

The river had taken a sharp turn to the south soon 
after passing the post-office, heading directly towards 
the mountains. Camp was pitched just above the 
mouth of Lodore. This twenty-mile canyon bears a 
very unsavory reputation, having a descent of 425 feet 
in that short distance, the greater part of the fall occurring 



SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 49 

in a space of twelve miles. This would mean wild water 
somewhere ! 

We were camped on a spot recently occupied by some 
engineers of the United States Conservation Department, 
who had been trying to determine if it was feasible to 
dam the river at this place. The plan was to flood the 
whole of Brown's Park and divert the water through 
the mountains by a tunnel to land suitable for cultiva- 
tion, and in addition, allow the muddy water to settle and 
so prevent the vast amount of silt from being washed on 
down, eventually to the mouth of the Colorado. The 
location seemed admirably suited for this stupendous 
project. But holes drilled beside the river failed to find 
bottom, as nothing but quicksand existed even at a 
depth of nearly three hundred feet ; and without a strong 
foundation, such a dam would be utterly useless. 



CHAPTER V 

THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 

Camp routine was hurriedly disposed of the next 
morning, Saturday, September the 23d. Everything 
was made snug beneath the hatches, except the two guns, 
which were too long to go under the decks, and had to 
be carried in the open cockpits. "Camp No. 13, at the 
head of Lodore," as it is entered in my journal, was soon 
hidden by a bend in the river. The open, sun-lit coun- 
try, with its pleasant ranches and its grazing cattle, its 
rolling, gray, sage-covered hills and its wild grass and cot- 
tonwood-covered bottoms, was left behind, and we were 
back in the realm of the rock-walled canyon, and beetle- 
browed, frowning cliffs with pines and cedars clutching 
at the scanty ledges. 

We paused long enough to make a picture or two, 
with the hope that the photographic record would give 
to others some idea of the geological and scenic wonder 
— said to be the greatest known example of its kind — 
which lay before us. Here is an obstructing mountain 
raised directly in the river's path. Yet with no deviation 

so 



THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 5 1 

whatever the stream has cut through the very centre of 
the peak ! The walls are almost sheer, especially at the 
bottom, and are quite close together at the top. A mile 
inside, the mountain on the left or east side of the gorge 
is 2700 feet high. Geologists say that the river was here 
first, and that the mountain was slowly raised in its path- 
way — so slowly that the river could saw away and main- 
tain its old channel. The quicksand found below the 
present level would seem to indicate that the walls were 
once even higher than at present, and that a subsidence 
had taken place after the cutting. 

The river at the entrance of this rock-walled canyon 
was nothing alarming, four small rapids being passed 
without event. Then a fifth was reached that looked 
worse. The Edith was lined down. This was hard work, 
and dangerous too, owing to the strength of the current 
and the many rocks ; so I concluded that my own boat, 
the Defiance, must run the rapid. Jimmy went below, 
with a life-preserver on a rope. Emery stood beside the 
rapid with a camera and made a picture as I shot past 
him. Fortunately I got through without mishap. I 
refused to upset even to please my brother. 

We were beginning to think that Lodore was not so 
bad after all. Rapid followed rapid in quick succession, 
and all were run without trouble ; then we came to a 
large one. It was Upper Disaster Falls ; so named by 
Major Powell, for it was here that one of his boats was 



52 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

wrecked on his first voyage of exploration. This boat 
failed to make the landing above the rapid and was 
carried over. She struck a rock broadside, turned around 
and struck again, breaking the boat completely in two. 
This boat was built of |-inch oak reenforced with bulk- 
heads. When this fact Is taken into consideration, some 
idea may be had of the great power of these rapids. The 
three men who occupied the boat saved themselves by 
reaching an island a short distance below. 

This all happened on a stage of water much higher than 
the present one, so we did not let the occurrence influence 
us one way or the other, except to make us careful to land 
above the rapid. We found a very narrow channel be- 
tween two submerged boulders, the water plunging and 
foaming for a short distance below, over many hidden 
rocks. Still, there was only one large rock near the lower 
end that we greatly feared, and by careful work that 
might be avoided. 

The Edith went first and grazed the boulder slightly, 
but no harm was done as E. C. held his boat well 
in hand. I followed, and struck rocks at the same 
instant on both sides of the narrow channel with my oars. 
It will be remembered that we ran all these dangerous 
rapids facing downstream. The effect of this was to 
shoot the ends of both oars up past my face. The opera- 
tor said that I made a grimace just as he took a picture 
of the scrimmage. 



THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 53 

We landed on the island below and talked of camping 
there for the night, as it was getting late ; but the island 
was so rocky and inhospitable that we concluded to try 
the lower part of the rapid. This had no descent like 
the upper end ; but it was very shallow, and we soon 
found ourselves on rocks, unable to proceed any farther. 
It took an hour of hard labour to work our heavy boats 
safely to the shore. 

We had been hoping for a rest the next day — Sun- 
day — but the island was such a disagreeable place to 
camp that it seemed necessary to cross to the mainland 
at least. A coil of strong, pliable wire had been included 
in our material. Here was a chance to use it to advan- 
tage. The stream on the left side of the island could be 
waded, although it was very swift ; and we managed to 
get the wire across and well fastened at both ends. Ele- 
vating the wire above the water with cross-sticks, our tent 
and camp material were run across on a pulley, and camp 
was pitched a hundred yards below, on the left shore of 
the river. 

There were fitful showers in the afternoon, and we 
rested from our labour, obtaining a great deal of comfort 
from our tent, which was put up here for the third time 
since leaving Green River City. Always, when the 
weather was clear, we slept in the open. 

Monday, the 25th, found us at the same camp. Hav- 
ing concluded that Disaster Falls was an Ideal place for 



54 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

a moving picture, we sent the balance of the material 
across on the pulley and wire, making a picture of the 
operation ; stopping often because it continued to shower. 
Between showers we resumed our work and picture making. 
The picture was to have been concluded with the oper- 
ation of lining the boat across. E. C. stood on the shore 
about sixty feet away, working with the camera ; Jimmy 
was on the island, paying out the rope ; while I waded in 
the water, holding the bow of the boat as I worked her 
between the rocks. Having reached the end of the rope, 
I coiled it up, advising Jimmy to go up to a safe crossing 
and join my brother while I proceeded with the boat. 
All was going well, and I was nearing the shore, when 
I found myself suddenly carried off my feet into water 
beyond my depth, and drifting for the lower end of the 
rapid. Meanwhile I was holding to the bow of the boat, 
and calling lustily to my brother to save me. At first 
he did not notice that anything was wrong, as he was 
looking intently through the finder. Then he suddenly 
awoke to the fact that something was amiss, and came 
running down the boulder-strewn shore, but he could 
not help me, as we had neglected to leave a rope with 
him. Things were beginning to look pretty serious, 
when the boat stopped against a rock and I found myself 
once more with solid footing under me. It was too good 
a picture to miss ; and I found the operator at the ma- 
chine, turning the crank as I climbed out. 



THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 55 

We developed some films and plates that evening, 
securing some satisfactory results from these tests. It 
continued to rain all that night, with intermittent showers 
the next morning. The rain made little difference to us, 
for we were in the water much of the following day as 
the boats were taken along the edge of another unrunna- 
ble rapid, a good companion rapid for the one just passed. 

This was Lower Disaster Falls, the first of many 
similar rapids we were to see, but this was one of the 
worst of its kind. The swift-rushing river found its 
channel blocked by the canyon wall on the right side, 
the cliff running at right angles to the course of the 
stream. The river, attacking the limestones, had cut 
a channel under the wall, then turned and ran with the 
wall, emerging about two hundred feet below. Standing 
on a rock and holding one end of a twenty-five foot 
string we threw a stone attached to the other end across 
to the opposite wall. The overhanging wall was within 
two feet of the rushing river ; a higher stage of water 
would hide the cut completely from view. Think what 
would happen if a boat were carried against or under 
that wall ! We thought of it many times as we care- 
fully worked our boats along the shore. 

Between the delays of rain, with stops for picture mak- 
ing, portaging our material, and "lining" our boats, we 
spent almost three days in getting past the rapids called 
Upper and Lower Disaster Falls, with their combined fall 



56 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

of 50 feet in little more than half a mile. On the even- 
ing of September the 26th we camped almost within 
sight of this same place, at the base of a 3000-foot sugar- 
loaf mountain on the right, tree-covered from top to 
bottom. 

Things were going too easily for us, it seemed ; but 
we were in for a few reverses. It stormed much of the 
night and still drizzled when we embarked on the follow- 
ing morning. The narrow canyon was gloomy and dark- 
ened with shreds of clouds drifting far below the rim. 
The first rapid was narrow, and contained some large 
boulders. The Edith was caught on one of these and 
turned on her side, so that the water flowed in, filling the 
cockpit. The boat was taken off without difficulty, 
and bailed out. We found that the bulkheads failed 
to keep the water out of the hatches. Some material 
from the Edith was transferred to the Defiance. A bed, 
in a protecting sack of rubber and canvas, was shoved 
under the seat and we proceeded. 

Less than an hour later I repeated my brother's per- 
formance, but I was not so fortunate as he. The Defiance 
was carried against one rock as I tried to pull clear of 
another, and in an instant she was on her side, held 
by the rush of water. I caught the gunwale, and, climb- 
ing on to the rock that caused the disaster, I man- 
aged to catch the rope and held the boat. In the 
meantime Emery was in a whirlpool below, trying to 



THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 57 

land on the right side ; but was having a difficult 
time of it. Jimmy stood on the shore unable to 
help. The bed was washed out of the boat and went 
bobbing over the waves, then before I knew what had 
happened, the rope was jerked from my hands and I was 
left stranded on my rock. Seeing this, Jimmy ran with 
all his might for a pool at the end of the rapid, bravely 
rescuing the boat and the bed as well, just as the Edith 
was landed. A rope was soon thrown to me, after the 
inevitable picture was made. Then I jumped and was 
pulled to shore. 

On making an inventory we found that our guns were 
lost from the boat. Being too long to go under the 
hatches, they had been left in the cockpit. The De- 
fiance had an ugly rap on the bottom, where she 
struck a rock, the wood being smashed or jammed, but not 
broken out. Nearly all material in the two boats was wet, 
so we took everything out and piled it on a piece of can- 
vas, spread out on the sand. We worked rapidly, for 
another storm had been threatening all the morning. 

We were engaged in putting up our little tent when 
a violent wind which swept up the canyon, followed 
by a downpour of rain interrupted our work ; and if 
anything missed a soaking before, it certainly received 
it then. The sand was beaten into our cameras and 
everything was scattered helter-skelter over the shore. 
We were fortunate in only one respect. The wind was 



58 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

away from the river instead of toward it. We finally 
got the tent up, then threw everything into it in an indis- 
criminate pile, and waited for the storm to pass. Emery 
proposed that we do a song and dance just to show how 
good we felt ; but any appearance of merriment was 
rather forced. 

Had the builders of the boats been there, we fear they 
would have had an uncomfortable half-hour; for nearly 
all this loss could have been avoided had our instruc- 
tions regarding the hatch covers been followed. And 
for the sake of their saving a few dollars we had to 
suffer 1 

The rain soon passed and we went to work, first 
starting a fire and getting a hurried lunch, for we had 
not eaten our noon meal, and it was then 4 p.m. We 
put up our dark-room tent, then went to work to find 
what was saved, and what was lost. We were surprised 
to find that all our small films and plates had escaped a 
soaking. Protected in tin and cardboard boxes, wrapped 
with adhesive tape, and covered with a coating of paraf- 
fine melted and poured over them, they had turned the 
water in nearly every instance. The motion-picture 
film was not so fortunate. The parafiine had worn off the 
tin boxes in spots, the water soaked through the tape 
in some instances, and entered to the film. One 
roll, tightly wrapped, became wet on the edges ; the 
gelatine swelled and stuck to the other film, thus seal- 



THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 59 

ing the inner portion or picture part of the film, so that 
roll was saved. 

The motion-picture camera was filled with water, 
mud, and sand ; and the other cameras fared likewise. 
We cleaned them out as best we could, drying them over 
a small alcohol lamp which we had included in our duffle. 
Our job seemed endless. Jimmy had retired early, for 
he could help us but little in this work. It rained again 
in torrents, and the wind howled about the tent. After 
midnight, as we still toiled, a land-slide, loosened by the 
soaking rains, thundered down the mountain side about 
a fourth of a mile below our camp. We hoped Jimmy 
would not hear it. We retired soon after this. Smaller 
slides followed at intervals, descending over the 3000- 
foot precipices. Thunder reverberated through the can- 
yon, and altogether it was a night long to be remembered. 
These slides made one feel a little uncomfortable. "It 
would be most inconvenient," as we have heard some one 
say, "to wake in the morning and find ourselves wrapped 
up in a few tons of earth and rock." 

Emery woke me the next morning to report that 
the river had risen about six feet ; and that my boat — 
rolled out on the sand but left untied — was just on the 
point of going out with the water. It had proven for- 
tunate for us all Emery was a light sleeper ! There was 
no travelling this day, as the boat had to be repaired. 
Emery, being the ship's carpenter, set to work at once, 






60 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

while Jimmy and I stretched our ropes back and forth, 
and hung up the wet clothes. Then we built a number of 
fires underneath and soon had our belongings in a steam. 
Things were beginning to look cheerful again. The rain 
stopped, too, for a time at least. . 

A little later Jimmy ran into camp with a fish which 
he had caught with his hands. It was of the kind com- 
monly called the bony-tail or humpback or buifalo-fish, 
a peculiar species found in many of the rivers of the 
Southwest. It is distinguished by a small flat head, 
with a hump directly behind it ; the end of the body being 
round, very slender, and equipped with large tail-fins. 
This specimen was about sixteen inches long, the usual 
length for a full-grown fish of this species. 

Now for a fish story ! On going down to the river 
we found a great many fish swimming in a small whirl- 
pool, evidently trying to escape from the thick, slimy mud 
which was carried in the water. In a half-hour we 
secured fourteen fish, killing most of them with our oars. 
There were suckers and one catfish in the lot. You can 
judge for yourself how thick the water was, that such 
mudfishes as these should have been choked to helpless- 
ness. Our captured fish were given a bath in a bucket 
of rain-water, and we had a fish dinner. 

In the afternoon we made a test of the water from the 

river, and found that it contained 20 per cent of an 

ij alkaline silt. When we had to use this water, we bruised 



THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 6l 

the leaf of a prickly pear cactus, and placed it in a bucket 
of water. This method, repeated two or three times, 
usually clears the muddiest water. We also dug holes 
in the sand at the side of the river. The water, filtering 
through the sand, was often clear enough to develop the 
tests we made with our films. 

Jimmy continued to feel downhearted ; and this 
afternoon he told us his story. Our surmise about his 
being homesick was correct, but it was a little more than 
that. He had an invalid mother, it seemed, and, aided 
by an older brother, he had always looked after the needs 
of the family. When the proposition of making the 
river trip came up, serious objections were raised by the 
family ; but when the transportation arrived he had de- 
termined to go, in spite of their objections. Now he feared 
that his mother would not live, or that we would be 
wrecked, and he would not know where to turn, or what 
to do. No wonder he felt blue ! 

All we could do was to promise to help him leave the 
river at the very first opportunity. This would quite 
likely be at Jensen, Utah, still fifty miles farther down- 
stream. 

It continued to rain by spells that night and the next 
morning. About ii a.m. we resumed our work on the 
river. A short distance below our camp we saw the 
land-slide which we heard the night before — tons of earth 
and shattered rock wrapped about the split and stripped 



62 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

trunks of a half-dozen pines. The slide was started 
by the dislodged section of a sheer wall close to the top 
of the 2700-foot cliff. We also saw a boat of crude con- 
struction, pulled above the high-water mark ; evidently 
abandoned a great while before. Any person who had to 
climb the walls at that place had a hard job to tackle, al- 
though we could pick out breaks where it looked feasible ; 
there were a few places behind us where it would be next to 
impossible. We had only gone over a few rapids when we 
found a long pool, with driftwood eddying upstream, and 
knew that our run for the day was over — the Triplet 
Rapids were ahead of us. We found this rapid to be 
about a fourth of a mile long, divided into three sections 
as its name indicated, and filled with great boulders at 
the base of a sheer cliff on the right — another unrunnable 
rapid. 

Taking the camp material from the boats, we carried 
it down and pitched our tent first of all, then, while Emery 
prepared supper, Jimmy and I carried the remaining 
duffle down to camp. One of the boats was lined down 
also. Then after supper we enjoyed the first rest we had 
taken for some time. 

Camp Ideal we called it, and it well deserved the 
name. At the bottom of a tree-covered precipice reach- 
ing a height of 2700 feet, was a strip of firm, level sand, 
tapering off with a slope down to the water, making a 
perfect landing and dooryard. A great mass of driftwood, 



THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 63 

piled up at the end of the rapid, furnished us with all 
the fuel we needed with small effort on our part. Our 
tent was backed against a large rock, while other flat 
rocks near at hand made convenient shelves on which to 
lay our camp dishes and kettles. It started to drizzle 
again that night, but what cared we ? With a roaring 
fire in front of the tent we all cleaned up for a change, 
sewed patches on our tattered garments, and, sitting on 
our beds, wrote the day's happenings in our journals. 
Then we crawled into our comfortable beds, and I was' 
soon dreaming of my boyhood days when I "played 
hookey" from school and went fishing in a creek that 
emptied into the Allegheny River, or climbed its rocky 
banks ; to be awakened by Jimmy crying out in his 
sleep, 

"There she goes over the rapids." 

Jimmy was soon informed that he and the boats were 
perfectly safe, and I was brought back to a realization 
of the fact that I was not going to get a "whaling" for 
going swimming in dog-days ; but instead was holed up 
in Lodore Canyon, in the extreme northwestern corner 
of Colorado. 



CHAPTER VI 

hell's half mile 

We began our work the next morning where we left 
off the night before by bringing the remaining boat 
down along the edge of the "Triplets." Then, while 
Emery cooked the breakfast, Jimmy and I "broke camp." 
The beds came first. The air had been released from the 
mattresses before we got up, — one way of saving time. 
A change of dry clothing was placed with each bed, and 
they were rolled as tightly as the two of us could do it, 
after which they were strapped, placed in a rubber sack, 
with a canvas sack over that, both these sacks being 
laced at the top. The tent — one of those so-called 
balloon silk compositions — made a very small roll ; 
the dark-room tent, with its three plies of cloth, made 
the largest bundle of the lot. Everything had been 
taken from the boats, and made quite a pile of dunnage, 
when it was all collected in a pile ready for loading. 
After the dishes were washed they were packed in a box, 
the smoke-covered pots and pans being placed in a sack. 
Everything was sorted and piled before the loading 

64 




Copi/rig/u bu i^uiu t>rus. 
"THE CANYON WAS GLOOMY, AND DARKENED WITH SHREDS OF CLOUDS." 



HELL'S HALF MILE 65 

commenced. An equal division of nearly everything 
was made, so that the loss of one boat and its cargo 
would only partially cripple the expedition. The photo- 
graphic plates and films, in protecting canvas sacks, 
were first disposed of, being stored in the tin-lined hatches 
in the bow of the boats. Two of the smaller rolls con- 
taining bedding, or clothing ; a sack of flour, and half of 
the cameras completed the loads for the forward com- 
partments. Five or six tin and wooden boxes, filled with 
provisions, went into the large compartments under the 
stern. A box containing tools and hardware for the 
inevitable repairs, and the weightier provisions — such 
as canned milk and canned meats — went in first. 
This served as ballast for the boats. Then the other 
provisions followed, the remaining rolls of bedding and 
tents being squeezed in on top. This compartment, 
with careful packing, would hold as much as two ordinary- 
sized trunks, but squeezing it all in through the small 
hatchway, or opening on top, was not an easy job. One 
thing we guarded very carefully from this time on was a 
waterproofed sack containing sugar. The muddy water 
had entered the top of this sack in our upset, and a 
liquefied sugar, or brown-coloured syrup, was used in our 
coffee and on our breakfast foods after that. It gradu- 
ally dried out, and our emptied cups would contain a 
sediment of mud in the bottom. 

Such was our morning routine, although it was not 



66 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

often that everything was taken from the boats, and it 
only happened in this case because we made a portage 
the night before. 

Our work was all undone an hour later, when we came 
to the sharp descent known as Hell's Half Mile. A 
section of a cliff had fallen from above, and was shat- 
tered into a hundred fragments, large and small ; gigantic 
rocks were scattered on both shores and through the 
river bed, not an orderly array of rocks such as that 
found at Ashley Falls, but a riotous mass, looking as 
though they had been hurled from the sky above. The 
stripped trunk of an eight-foot tree, with roots extend- 
ing over the river, had been deposited by a recent flood 
on top of the principal barrier. All this was found about 
fifty yards below the beginning of the most violent de- 
scent in Lodore Canyon. It would have been difficult 
enough without this last complication ; the barrier 
seemed next to insurmountable, tired and handicapped 
with heavy boats as we were. 

With a weary sigh we dropped our boats to the head 
of the rapid and prepared to make the portage. Our 
previous work was as nothing to this. Rounded lime- 
stone boulders, hard as flint and covered with a thin 
slime of mud from the recent rise, caused us to slip 
and fall many times. Then we dragged ourselves and 
loads up the sloping walls. They were cut with gul- 
lies from the recent rains ; low scraggy cedars caught 



HELL'S HALF MILE d'] 

at our loads, or tore our clothes, as we staggered along ; 
the muddy earth stuck to our shoes, or caused our feet 
to slip from under us as we climbed, first two or three 
hundred feet above the water, then close to the river's 
edge. Three-fourths of a mile of such work brought us 
to a level place below the rapid. It took nine loads to 
empty one boat. 

Darkness came on before our boats were emptied, so 
they were securely tied in quiet water at the head of 
the rapid, and left for the morning. 

The next day found Emery and me at work on the 
boats, while Jimmy was stationed on the shore with the 
motion-picture camera. This wild scene, with Its score 
of shooting currents, was too good a view to miss. With 
life-preservers inflated and adjusted, Emery sat In the 
boat at the oars, pulling against the current, lessening 
the velocity with which the boat was carried down tow- 
ard the main barrier, while I followed on the shore, 
holding a rope, and dropped him down, a little at a time, 
until the water became too rough and the rocks too nu- 
merous. All directions were given with signals ; the human 
voice was of little avail in the turmoil. We kept the 
boats in the water as long as it was safe to do so, for it 
greatly lessened the hard work of a portage. With one 
end of the boat floating on the water, an ordinary lift 
would take the other end over a rock with Insufficient 
water above It to float the boat. Then the boat was 



68 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

balanced on the rock, the opposite end was lifted, she 
was shoved forward and dropped in the water again, 
and another threatening rock was passed. Foot by foot 
we fought our way, now on the shore, now waist deep in 
the water below some protecting boulder, threatened 
every moment by the whirling water that struggled to 
drag us into the torrent. The sand and water collecting 
in our clothes weighted us down ; the chill of standing in 
the cold water numbed our limbs. Finally the barrier 
was reached and the boats were run out close to the end, 
and tied in a quiet pool, while we devised some method 
of getting them past or over this obstruction. 

Directly underneath and beyond the roots of the tree 
were large rounded boulders, covered with slippery mud. 
Past this barrier the full force of the water raced, to hurl 
itself and divide its current against another rock. It 
was useless to try to take a boat around the end of the 
rock. The boat's sides, three-eighths of an inch thick, 
would be crushed like a cardboard box. If lifted into 
the V-shaped groove, the weight of the boats would wedge 
them and crush their sides. Fortunately an upright 
log was found tightly wedged between these boulders. 
A strong limb, with one end resting on a rock opposite, 
was nailed to this log ; a triangle of stout sticks, with 
the point down, was placed opposite this first limb, on 
the same level, and was fastened to the upright log with 
still another piece ; and another difficulty was overcome. 



HELL'S HALF MILE 69 

With a short rope fastened to the iron bar or hand- 
hold on the stern, this end was lifted on to the cross-piece, 
the bow sticking into the water at a sharp angle. The 
short rope was tied to the stump, so we would not lose 
what we had gained. The longer rope from the bow was 
thrown over the roots of the tree above, then we both 
pulled on the rope, until finally the bow was on a level 
with the stern. She was pulled forward, the ropes were 
loosened and the boat rested on the cross-pieces. The 
motion-picture camera was transferred so as to command 
a view of the lower side of the barrier, then the boat was 
carefully tilted, and slid forward, a little at a time, until 
she finally gained headway, nearly jerking the rope from 
our hands, and shot into the pool below. 

We enjoyed the wildest ride we had experienced up 
to this time in running the lower end of this rapid. The 
balance of the day was spent in the same camp below 
the rapid. Our tent was put up in a group of box elder 
trees, — the first trees of this species we had seen. Red 
cedar trees dotted the rocky slopes, while the larger 
pines became scarce at the river's edge, and gathered 
near the top of the canyon's walls. The dark red rocks 
near the bottom were covered with a light blue-tinted 
stratum of limestone, similar to the fallen rocks found 
in the rapid above. In one land-slide, evidently struck 
with some rolling rock, lay the body of a small deer. 
We saw many mountain sheep tracks, but failed to see 



70 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

the sheep. Many dead fish, their gills filled with the 
slimy mud from the recent rise, floated past us, or lay 
half buried in the mud. These things were noticed as 
we went about our duties, for we were too weary to do 
any exploring. 

The next morning, Monday, October the 2d, saw 
us making arrangements for the final run that would 
take us out of Lodore Canyon. No doubt it was a beau- 
tiful and a wonderful place, but none of us seemed sorry 
to leave it behind. For ten days we had not had a single 
day entirely free from rain, and instead of having a chance 
to run rapids, it seemed as if we had spent an entire week 
in carrying our loads, or in lining our boats through the 
canyon. The canyon walls lost much of their pre- 
cipitous character as we neared the end of the canyon. 

A short run took us over the few rapids that remained, 
and at a turn ahead we saw a 300-foot ridge, brilliantly 
tinted in many colours, — light and golden yellows, orange 
and red, purple and lavender, — and composed of number- 
less wafer-like layers of rock, uptilted, so that the broken 
ends looked like the spines of a gigantic fish's back. 
A sharp turn to the left soon brought us to the end of this 
ridge, close to the bottom of a smooth, sheer wall. Across 
a wide, level point of sand we could see a large stream, 
the Yampa River, flowing from the East to join its waters 
with those of the Green. This was the end of Lodore 
Canyon. 



CHAPTER VII 

JIMMY GOES OVER THE MOUNTAIN 

The Yampa, or Bear River, was a welcome sight to 
us in spite of its disagreeable whitish yellow, clay colour ; 
quite different from the red water of the Green River. 
The new stream meant more water in the channel, some- 
thing we needed badly, as our past tribulations showed. 
The recent rise on the Green had subsided a little, but 
we now had a much higher stage than when we entered 
Lodore. Quite likely the new conditions gave us six 
feet of water above the low water on which we had been 
travelling. Would it increase or diminish our dangers f 
We were willing, Emery and I, even anxious, to risk our 
chances on the higher water. 

Directly opposite the Yampa, the right shore of the 
Green went up sheer about 700 feet high, indeed it seemed 
to overhang a trifle. This had been named Echo Cliffs 
by Powell's party. The clifi"s gave a remarkable echo, 
repeating seven words plainly when shouted from the 
edge of the Yampa a hundred yards away, and would 
doubtless repeat more if shouted from the farther shore 

71 



72 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

of the Yampa. Echo Cliffs, we found, were in the form 
of a peninsula and terminated just below this point where 
we stood, the river doubling back on the other side of the 
cliff. On the left side of the river, the walls fell back, 
leaving a flat, level space of about twenty-five acres. 
Here was a little ranch of which Mrs. Chew had told us. 
The Chew ranch lay back from the river on top of the 
cliffs. We found no one at home here at this first ranch, 
but there was evidence of recent habitation. There were 
a few peach trees, and a small garden, while beyond this 
were two buildings, — little shacks in a dilapidated 
condition. The doors were off their hinges and leaned 
against the building, a few logs being placed against the 
doors. Past the dooryard, coming out of a small canyon 
above the ranch, ran a little brook ; up this canyon was 
a trail, the outlet to the ranch above. We camped near 
the mouth of the stream. 

It had been agreed upon the night before, that we 
should endeavour to make arrangements to have Jimmy 
taken out on horseback over the mountains. Before 
looking for the ranch, however, we asked him if he did not 
wish to reconsider his decision to leave here. We pointed 
out that Jensen, Utah, was only fifty miles away, half that 
distance being in quiet water, and that the worst canyon 
was behind us. But he said he had enough of the river, 
and preferred to see what could be done. While I busied 
myself about camp, he and Emery left for the ranch. 



JIMMY GOES OVER THE MOUNTAIN 73 

About seven o'clock that evening they returned in 
great spirits. They had found the ranch without any 
trouble, nearly three miles from our camp. Mrs. Chew 
was there and gave them a hearty welcome. She had 
often wondered what had become of us. She invited 
the boys to remain for supper, which they did. They 
talked over the matter of transportation for Jimmy. 
As luck would have it, Mrs. Chew was going to drive 
over to Jensen, and Vernal, Utah, in two days' time, and 
agreed to take Jimmy along. 

Early the next morning two boys, one about fourteen 
years old the other a little older, rode down from the 
ranch. Some of their horses were pastured across the 
river and they had come after these. After a short 
visit they got into the Edith with Emery and prepared to 
cross over to the pasture, which was a mile or more down- 
stream. They were soon out of our sight. Jimmy and I 
remained at the camp, taking pictures, packing his 
belongings, and finding many odd jobs to be done. In 
about three hours the boys returned with their horses. 
The horses were quite gentle, and they had no diflficulty 
in swimming them across. A young colt, too feeble to 
swim, placed its fore feet on its mother's flanks and was 
ferried across in that way. Then they were driven over 
a narrow trail skirting the cliff, 300 feet above the river. 
No one, looking from the river, would have imagined that 
any trail, over which horses could be driven, existed. 



74 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

The boys informed us that we were expected at the 
ranch for dinner, and would listen to no refusal, so up 
we went, although we would have to make a second trip 
that day. The view of the ranch was another of those 
wonderful scenic changes which we were to meet with 
everywhere in this region. The flat on which we stood 
was simply a pocket, shut in by the round-domed moun- 
tains, with a pass, or an opening, to the east side. A 
small stream ran down a mountain side, spreading over 
the rocks, and glistening in the sunlight. This same 
stream passed the ranch, and ran on down through the 
narrow canyon up which we had come. The ranch itself 
was refreshing. The buildings were new, some were 
under construction ; but there was considerable ground 
under cultivation. Cattle were scattered up the valley, 
or dotted the rocky slopes below the mountains. A wild 
spot this, on the borderland of the three states. None but 
people of fortitude, or even of daring, would think of 
taking up a homestead in this secluded spot. The 
same rumours of the escaped prisoners had drifted in here. 
It was Mr. Chew who gave us the information we have 
previously quoted concerning the murdered man. He had 
found the body in the boat, in front of the post-office. 
He further stated that others in the mountains would not 
hesitate at anything to drive out those who were trying 
to improve a homestead as he was doing, and that it was 
a common event to find the carcasses of his own horses 



JIMMY GOES OVER THE MOUNTAIN 75 

or cattle which had been ruthlessly slaughtered. This 
was the reason for putting the horses across the river. 
There they were safe, for none could approach them save 
by going past the ranch, or coming through Lodore 
Canyon. 

Mr. Chew also told us of the Snyders, who had lost 
their boat in upper Lodore Canyon, and of how he had 
given them a horse and provisions to aid them in reaching 
the settlements. This did not prevent the elder Snyder 
from coming back to trap the next year, much to Mr. 
Chew's disgust. He thought one experience should be 
enough for any man. 

While we were talking, a very old, bearded man rode in 
on a horse. He was Pat Lynch, the owner of the little 
ranch by the river. He was a real old-timer, having 
been in Brown's Park when Major Powell was surveying 
that section of the country. He told us that he had 
been hired to get some meat for the party, and had killed 
five mountain sheep. He was so old that he scarcely 
knew what he was talking about, rambling from one 
subject to another; and would have us listening with im- 
patience to hear the end of some wonderful tale of the 
early days, when he would suddenly switch off on to an 
entirely diflFerent subject, leaving the first unfinished. 

In spite of his years he was quite active, having broken 
the horse on which he rode, bareback, without assistance. 
We were told that he placed a spring or trap gun in his 



76 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

houses at the river, ready to greet any prying marauder. 
The last we saw of him he was on his way to the post- 
office, miles away, to draw his pension for service in the 
Civil War. 

Returning to the transportation of Jimmy, it was 
settled that the Chews were to leave early the next morning. 
They also agreed to take out our exposed films and plates 
for us — something we had not counted on, but too good 
a chance to lose. We all three returned to the boats and 
packed the stuff that was to go out ; then went back to 
the ranch with Jimmy. It was late — after midnight — 
when we reached there, and we did not disturb any one. 
Jimmy's blankets were unrolled in the wagon, so there 
would be no question about his going out. He was to 
go to Jensen, or Vernal, and there await us, keeping our 
films until we arrived. We knew they were in good hands. 
It was with some difficulty that we found our way back 
to our camp. The trail was difficult and it was pitch 
dark. My boat had been taken down to where Emery 
left the Edith when the horses were driven across, and this 
extra distance was added to our walk. 

We were laggard the next morning, and in no hurry 
to resume our work. We rearranged our loads in the 
boats ; with one less man and considerable less baggage 
as well, they were lighter by far. Our chances looked 
much more favourable for an easier passage. Not only 
were these things in our favour, but in addition we felt 



JIMMY GOES OVER THE MOUNTAIN 77 

that we had served our apprenticeship at navigation In 
rapid water, and we were just as capable of meeting the 
rapids to follow as if we had years of experience to our 
record. On summing up we found that the river had 
dropped 1000 feet since leaving Green River, Wyoming, 
and that 5000 feet remained, to put us on a level with 
the ocean. Our difficulties would depend, of course, 
on how this fall was distributed. Most of the fall behind 
was found in Lodore and Red canyons. It was doubtful 
indeed if any section would have a more rapid fall than 
Lodore Canyon. 

There is a certain verse of wisdom which says that 
"Pride goeth before a fall," but perhaps It was just as 
well for us if we were a little bit elated by our past achieve- 
ments as long as we had to go through with the balance 
of our self-imposed task. Confidence, in a proper degree, 
is a great help when real difficulties have to be surmounted. 
We were full of confidence that day when we pulled away 
about noon into Whirlpool Canyon, Whirlpool Canyon 
being next on the list. The camp we were about to leave 
was directly opposite Lodore Canyon, where it ran against 
the upended cliff. The gorgeous colours were the same 
as those on the opposite side, and, to a certain degree, were 
also found in Whirlpool Canyon. 

Our two and a half hours' dash through the fourteen 
miles of rapid water in Whirlpool Canyon put us in a 
joyful frame of mind. Rapid after rapid was left behind 



78 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

US without a pause in our rowing, with only a hasty 
survey standing on the deck of the boats before going 
over. Others that were free from rocks were rowed into 
bow first, the big waves breaking over our boats and our- 
selves. We bailed while drifting in the quiet stretches, 
then got ready for the next rapids. Two large rapids 
only were looked over from the shore and these were run 
in the same manner. We could hardly believe it was true 
when we emerged from the mountain so quickly into a 
little flat park or valley sheltered in the hills. This was 
Island or Rainbow Park, the latter name being suggested 
by the brilliant colouring of the rocks, in the mountains 
to our left. Perhaps the form of the rocks themselves 
helped a little, for here was one end of the rainbow of rock 
which began on the other side of the mountains. Jagged- 
edged canyons looking almost as if their sides had been 
rent asunder came out of these mountains. There was 
very little dark red here except away on top, 2300 feet 
above, where a covering of pines made a soft background 
for light-cream and gorgeous yellow-coloured pinnacles, or 
rocky walls of pink and purple and delicate shades of 
various hues. Large cottonwoods appeared again along 
the river banks, in brilliant autumn colours, adding to 
the beauties of the scene. Back from the river, to the 
west, stretched the level park, well covered with bunch- 
grass on which some cattle grazed, an occasional small 
prickly pear cactus, and the ever present, pungent sage. 



JIMMY GOES OVER THE MOUNTAIN 79 

Verdure-covered islands dotted the course of the stream, 
which was quiet and sluggish, doubling back and forth 
like a serpent over many a useless mile. Nine miles of 
rowing brought us back to a point about three miles 
from the mouth of Whirlpool Canyon ; where the river 
again enters the mountain, deliberately choosing this 
course to one, unobstructed for several miles, to the 
right. 

The next gorge was Split Mountain Canyon, so 
named because the stream divided the ridge length- 
wise, from one end to the other. It was short, only nine 
miles long, with a depth of 2700 feet in the centre of the 
canyon. Three miles of the nine were put behind us 
before we camped that evening. These were run in 
the same manner as the rapids of Whirlpool, scarcely 
pausing to look them over, but these rapids were bigger, 
much bigger. One we thought was just formed or at 
least increased in size by a great slide of rock that had 
fallen since the recent rains. We just escaped trouble in 
this rapid, both boats going over a large rock with a 
great cresting wave below, and followed by a very rough 
rapid. Emery was standing on top of a fifteen-foot 
rock below the rapid when I went over, and for a few 
moments could see nothing of my boat, hardly believing 
it possible that I had come through without a scratch. 
These rapids with the high water looked more like rapids 
we had seen in the Grand Canyon, and were very unlike 



8o THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

the shallow water of a week previous. We had only 
travelled a half day, but felt as if it had been a very com- 
plete day when we camped at the foot of a rock slide on 
the right, just above another big rapid. 

On Thursday, October 5, Camp No. 20 was left 
behind. The rapid below the camp was big, big enough 
for a moving picture, so we took each other in turns as 
we ran the rapid. More rapids followed, but these were 
not so large. A few sharp-pointed spires of tinted rock 
lifted above us a thousand feet or more. Framed in 
with the branches of the near-by cottonwood trees, they 
made a charming picture. Less than three hours brought 
us to the end of Split Mountain Canyon, and the last 
bad water we were to have for some time. Just before 
leaving the canyon, we came to some curious grottos, or 
alcoves, under the rock walls on the left shore. The river 
has cut into these until they overhang, some of them 
twenty-five feet or over. In one of these was a beaver 
lying on a pile of floating sticks. Although we passed 
quite close, the beaver never moved, and we did not 
molest it. 

Another shower greeted us as we emerged into the 
Uinta Valley as it is called by the Ute Indians. This 
valley is eighty-seven miles long. It did not have the 
fertileness of Brown's Park, being raised in bare rolling 
hills, runnelled and gullied by the elements. The water 
was quiet here, and hard rowing was necessary to make 



JIMMY GOES OVER THE MOUNTAIN 8l 

any progress. We had gone about seven miles when we 
spied a large placer dredge close to the river. To the 
uninitiated this dredge would look much like a dredging 
steamboat out of water, but digging its own channel, 
which is what it really does. 

Great beds of gravel lay on either side of the river and 
placer gold in large or small quantities, but usually the 
latter is likely to exist in these beds. When a dredge 
like the one found here is to be installed, an opening is 
made in the river's bank leading to an excavation which 
has been made, then a large flatboat is floated in this. 
The dredging machinery is on this float, as well as most of 
the machinery through which the gravel is passed ac- 
companied by a stream of water ; then with quicksilver 
and rockers of various designs, the gold is separated from 
the gravel and sand. 

Numerous small buildings were standing near the 
dredge, but the buildings were empty, and the dredge 
lay idle. We saw many fresh tracks of men and horses 
and were welcomed by a sleek, well-fed cat, but found the 
place was deserted. All buildings were open and in one 
was a telephone. We were anxious to hear just where 
we were, so we used the telephone and explained what 
we wanted to know. The "Central" informed us that 
we were about nine miles from Jensen, so we returned 
to the boats and pulled with a will through a land that 
was no longer barren, but with cozy ranch houses, sur- 

G 



82 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

rounded by rows of stately poplars, bending with the 
wind, for it was storming in earnest now. About six 
o'clock that evening we caught sight of the top of the 
Jensen bridge ; then, as we neared the village, the sun 
broke through the pall of cloud and mist, and a rainbow 
appeared in the sky above, and was mirrored in the 
swollen stream, rainbow and replica combined nearly 
completing the wondrous arc. There was a small inn 
beside the bridge, and arrangements were made for 
staying there that night. We were told that Jim and 
Mrs. Chew had passed through Jensen about four hours 
before we arrived. They had left word that they would 
go on through to Vernal, fifteen miles distant from the 
river. 



CHAPTER VIII 

AN INLAND EXCURSION 

Jensen was a small village with two stores and a 
post-office. A few scattered houses completed the village 
proper, but prosperous-looking ranches spread out on the 
lowland for two or three miles in all directions on the 
west side of the river. Avenues of poplar trees, fruit 
trees, and fields of alfalfa gave these ranches a different 
appearance from any others we had passed. 

We found some mail awaiting us at the post-office, 
and were soon busily engaged in reading the news from 
home. We conversed awhile with the few people at 
the hotel, then retired, but first made arrangements for 
saddle horses for the ride to Vernal. 

Next morning we found two spirited animals, saddled 
and waiting for us. We had some misgivings concerning 
these horses, but were assured that they were "all right." 
A group of grinning cowboys and ranch hands craning 
their necks from a barn, a hundred yards distant, rather 
inclined us to think that perhaps our informant might 
be mistaken. Nothing is more amusing to these men of 

83 



84 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

the range than to see a man thrown from his horse, and 
a horse that Is "all right" for one of them might be 
anything else to persons such as we who never rode 
anything except gentle horses, and rode those indifferently. 
We mounted quickly though, trying to appear uncon- 
cerned. The horses, much to our relief, behaved quite 
well, Emery's mount rearing back on his hind legs, 
but not bucking. After that, all went smoothly. 

Leaving the irrigated ranches on the bottom lands, 
we ascended a low, rolling mesa, composed of gravel and 
clay, unwatered and unfertile, from which we caught 
occasional glimpses of the mountains and the gorge from 
which we had emerged, their brilliant colours softened 
and beautified by that swimming blue haze which belongs 
to this plateau region. Then we rode down into the 
beautiful Ashley Valley, watered by Ashley Creek, a 
good-sized stream even after it was used to irrigate all 
the country for miles above. The valley was several 
miles wide. The stream emptied into the river about a 
mile below Jensen. All parts of the valley were under 
cultivation. It is famous for its splendid deciduous 
fruits, apples, pears, peaches ; splendid both in ap- 
pearance and flavour. It excelled not only in fruits, 
however, but in all products of the field as well. "Vernal 
honey," which is marketed far and near, has a reputation 
for fine flavour wherever it is known. A thick growth of 
the bee-blossom or bee-weed crowded the road sides and 




Copyright by Koln Bros. 

EACH BED WAS PLACED IN A RUBBER AND A CANVAS SACK. PHOTO TAKEN 

IN MARBLE CANYON. 



AN INLAND EXCURSION 85 

hugged the fences. The fragrance of the flower can 
easily be noticed in the sweetness of the honey. The 
pity of it was that bushels of fruit lay rotting on the 
ground, for there were no transportation facilities, the 
nearest railroad being 90 miles distant. There were 
stock ranches too, with blooded stock in the fence-en- 
closed fields. Some of the splendid horses paced along 
beside us on the other side of the fence. We heard the 
rippling song of some meadow-larks this day, the only birds 
of this species we remember having seen on the Western 
plateaus. 

All these ranches were laid out in true Mormon style, 
that is, squared oif in sections, fenced, and planted with 
shade-trees before being worked. The roads are usually 
wide and the streets exceptionally so. Except in the 
business streets, a large garden usually surrounds the 
home building, each family endeavouring to raise all their 
own vegetables, fruits, and poultry. They usually suc- 
ceed. 

The shade trees about Vernal were Lombardy poplars. 
They attained a height that would give ample shade under 
most conditions, and too much when we were there, for 
the roads were very muddy, although they had dried in 
all other sections. Nearing Vernal, we passed Nathan 
Galloway's home, a cozy place set back some distance 
from the road. We had hoped to meet Galloway and 
have an opportunity of talking over his experiences with 



86 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

him, but found he was absent on a hunting trip, in fact 
was up in the mountains we had come through. 

On nearing the town we were greeted by a busy- 
scene. Numerous wagons and horses stood in squares 
reserved for that purpose, or were tied to hitching posts 
in front of the many stores. Ranchers and their families 
were everywhere in evidence ; there were numerous 
prospectors in their high-topped boots just returning 
from the mountains, and oil men in similar garb, muddy 
from head to foot. Later we learned that oil had recently 
been discovered about forty miles distant, this fact 
accounting for much of the activity. 

The town itself was a surprise ; we found it to be very 
much up-to-date considering its isolated position. Two 
of the streets were paved and oiled and were supplied with 
drinking fountains. There were two prosperous looking 
banks, two well-stocked and up-to-date drug stores, 
several mercantile stores, and many others, all busy. 
Many of the buildings were of brick ; all were substantial. 

Near a hotel we observed a group of men surrounding 
some one who was evidently keeping them interested. 
On approaching them we found it was Jimmy, giving a 
graphic description of some of our difficulties. His 
story was not finished, for he saw us and ran to greet us, 
as pleased to see us as we were to see him. He had 
little idea we would be along for two or three days and 
naturally was much surprised. 



AN INLAND EXCURSION 87 

On entering the hotel we were greeted by an old Grand 
Canyon friend, a civil engineer named Duff, who with a 
crew of men had been mapping the mountains near Whirl- 
pool Canyon. You can imagine that it was a gratifying 
surprise to all concerned to find we were not altogether 
among strangers, though they were as hospitable as 
strangers could be. The hotel was a lively place that night. 
There was some musical talent among Duff's men, and 
Duff himself was an artist on the piano. Many of the 
young people of the town had dropped in that evening, 
as some one had passed the word that there might be an 
impromptu entertainment at the hotel. There was. 
Duff played and the boys sang. Jimmy was himself 
again and added his rich baritone. The town itself was 
not without musical talent, and altogether it was a restful 
change for us. 

Perhaps we should have felt even better if we had been 
dressed differently, for we wore much the same clothes as 
those in which we did our work on the river — a woollen 
shirt and overalls. Besides, neither Emery nor I had 
shaved since starting, and it is quite likely that we looked 
just a little uncouth. Appearances count for little with 
these people in the little-settled districts, and it is a 
common enough sight to them to see men dressed as we 
were. They did everything they could to make us feel 
at ease. As one person remarked, 

"The wealthiest cattle man, or the owner of the richest 



88 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

mine In the country, usually looks worse than all others 
after a month on the range or in the hills." 

If wealth were indicated on an inverse ratio to one's 
good appearance, we should have been very wealthy in- 
deed. We felt as if it would take us a week to get rested, 
and lost little time in getting to bed when the party 
broke up. We imagine most of the residents of Vernal 
were Mormons. It Is part of their creed to give " the 
stranger within their gates" a cordial welcome. This, 
however, was accorded to us, not only among the Mor- 
mons, but In every section of our journey on the Green 
and Colorado rivers. 

The following da}^ was a busy one. Arrangements 
had been made with a local photographer to get the use 
of his dark room, and we proceeded to develop all plates 
and many of our films. These were then tb be packed 
and shipped out. We were informed at the local express 
ofhce, that It might be some time before they would go, 
as the recent rains had been very bad in Colorado and 
had washed out most of the bridges. 

Vernal had passenger transportation to the railway — a 
branch of the D. & R. G. running north into Colorado 
— by automobile, the route lying across the Green and 
also across the White River, a tributary to the Green. A 
steel structure had been washed away on the White 
River, making it Impossible to get through to the station. 
The high water below here must have been a flood, 



AN INLAND EXCURSION 89 

judging from all reports. About ten bridges, large and 
small, were reported as being washed away on numerous 
branch streams leading into the Green River. Fortu- 
nately Vernal had another means of communication. This 
was a stage running southwest from Vernal, over 125 
miles of rough road to Price, Utah — Price being a station 
on the main line of the D. & R. G. 

Jimmy concluded that he would take this road, in 
preference to the uncertainties of the other route, and 
noon that day found him on board the stage. He prom- 
ised to write to us, and was anxious to hear of our 
success, but remarked that when he once got home he 
would "never leave San Francisco again." There was a 
final hand clasp, a cheer from the small group of men, and 
the stage drove away with Jimmy, a happy boy indeed. 

Our work on the developing progressed well, and with 
very satisfying results on the whole, and that evening 
found us with all plates packed ready for shipment to 
our home. The moving-picture film was also packed and 
shipped to be developed at once. This was quite a load 
oif our minds. 

The following day we prepared to depart, but did not 
leave until the afternoon. Then, with promises to let 
them know the outcome of our venture, we parted 
from our friends and rode back to Jensen. 

We planned on leaving the following morning. The 
river had fallen one foot since we had landed, and we were 



90 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

anxious to have the benefit of the high water. We 
were told that it was six feet above the low-water stage 
of two weeks before. 

On Monday, October the 9th, after loading our boats 
with a new stock of provisions, — in which was included a 
few jars of honey, and a few dozen of eggs, packed in 
sawdust, — we began what might be called the second 
stage of our journey ; the 175-mile run to Blake or Green 
River, Utah, a little west of south from Jensen. Ten 
miles below Jensen was a ferry used by the auto and 
wagons. Here also was a ranch house, with a number of 
people in the yard. We were invited to land and did so. 
They had been informed by telephone of our coming and 
were looking for us ; indeed they had even prepared 
dinner for us, hoping we would reach there in time. 
Not knowing all this, we had eaten our cold lunch half an 
hour before. The women were busy preserving fruits 
and garden truck, and insisted on us taking two or three 
jars along. This was a welcome change to the dried 
fruit, which was one of our principal foods. These people 
made the usual request — 

"Drop us a post card if you get through." 

The memory of these people that we met on this 
journey will linger with us as long as we live. They 
were always anxious to help us or cheer us on our way. 

We passed a dredge that evening and saw a man at 
work with a team and scoop shovel, the method being 



AN INLAND EXCURSION 91 

to scoop up the gravel and sand, then dump it in an iron 
car. This was then pulled by the horses to thv top of 
a derrick up a sloping track and dumped. A stream of 
water pumped up from the river mixed with the gravel, 
the entire mass descended a long zigzagging chute. We 
paused a few minutes only and did not examine the com- 
plicated process of separating the mineral from the gravel. 
This dredge had been recently installed. We camped 
early, half a mile below the dredge. 

Emery had been feeling poorly all this day He 
blamed his indisposition to having eaten too many 
good things when in Vernal — a break in training, as it 
were. This was our excuse for a short run that day. I 
played nurse and gave him some simple remedy from the 
little supply that we carried ; and, after he was in his 
sleeping bag, I filled some hot-water bags for the first 
time on the trip, and soon had him feeling quite 
comfortable. 

A hard wind came up that night, and a little rain fell. 
I had a busy half-hour keeping our camp from being blown 
away. The storm was of short duration, and all was 
soon quiet again. On the following morning Emery 
felt so good that I had a hard time in keeping up with 
him, and I wondered if he would ever stop. Towards 
evening, after a long pull, we neared the reservation of 
the Uinta Utes, and saw a few Indians camped away 
from the river. Here, again, were the cottonwood 



92 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

bottoms, banked by the barren, gravelly hills. We had 
been informed that there was a settlement called Ouray, 
some distance down the river, and we were anxious to 
reach it before night. But the river was sluggish, with 
devious and twisting channels, and it was dark when we 
finally landed at the Ouray ferry. 



CHAPTER IX 

CANYON OF DESOLATION 

Ouray, Utah, consisted of a large store to supply 
the wants of the Indians and ranchers, a small hotel, 
and a few dwellings. The agency proper was located 
some distance up the Uinta River, which stream emptied 
into the Green, just below Ouray. 

Supper was taken at the hotel, after which we visited a 
young man in charge of the store, looking over his curios 
and listening to tales of his life here among these Indians. 
They were peaceable enough now, but in years gone by 
were a danger to be reckoned with. We slept in our own 
beds close to our boats by the river. 

The following morning, when we were ready to leave, 
a small crowd gathered, a few Indians among them. Most 
of the Indians were big, fat, and sleepy-looking. Ap- 
parently they enjoyed the care of the government. 
A mile below we passed several squaws and numerous 
children under some trees, while on a high mound stood 
a lone buck Indian looking at us as we sped by, but with- 

93 



94 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

out a single movement that we could see. He still stood 
there as we passed from sight a mile below. It might 
be interesting if one could know just what was in his mind 
as he watched us. 

A mile below the Uinta River, which entered on the 
west, we passed another stream, the White River, entering 
from the east, the two streams adding considerable 
water to the Green River. We passed another idle dredge, 
also some mineral workings in tunnels, and saw two 
men camped on the shore beside them. We saw 
numerous Indian carvings on the rocks, but judged they 
were recent because horses figured in most of them. In 
all the open country the river was fringed with large 
Cottonwood trees, alders and willow thickets. A number 
of islands followed, one of them very symmetrical in 
shape, with cottonwood trees in the centre, while around 
the edge ran a fringe of bushes looking almost like a 
trimmed hedge. The autumn colouring added to its 
beauty. The hedge, as we called it, was dark red, brown, 
yellow, and green ; the cottonwoods were a light yellow. 
After we had passed this island, a deer, confused by our 
voices, jumped into the river fifty yards behind us, leaping 
and swimming as he made for the shore. We had no 
gun, but Emery had the moving-picture camera at hand, 
and turned it on the deer. The hour was late, however, 
and we had little hopes of its success as a picture. The 
country back from the river stretched in rolling, barren 



CANYON OF DESOLATION 95 

hills 200 or 300 feet high — a continuation of the Bad 
Lands of Utah, which lay off to the west. 

With the next day's travel the hills lost some of their 
barren appearance. Some cattle were seen early in the 
afternoon of the following day. We passed a cattle man 
working at a ferry, who had just taken some stock across, 
which other men had driven on ahead. He was busy, 
so we did not interrupt him, merely calling to him from 
the boats, drifting meanwhile with the current. Soon we 
saw him riding down the shore and waited for him to 
catch up. He invited us to camp with him that evening, 
remarking that he had "just killed a beef." We thanked 
him, but declined, as it was early and we had only travelled 
a short distance that day. We chatted awhile, and 
he told us to look out for rapids ahead. He was rather 
surprised when he learned that we had started at Green 
River, Wyoming, and had already come through a few 
rapids. 

"Where are you going to stop .^" he then asked. 

On being told that our destination was Needles, 
California, he threw up his hands with an expressive 
gesture, then added soberly, "Well, boys, I sure wish you 
luck," and rode back to his camp. 

We had difficulty in making a suitable landing that 
evening, as the high water had deposited great quantities 
of black mud over everything, making it very disagreeable 
when we left the boats. We finally found a place with 



96 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

less mud to wade through than on most of the banks 
seen, and tied up to the roots of a tree. 

While lying in our beds that night looking at the 
starlit sky — such a sky as is found only on these high 
plateaus — we discovered a comet directly above us. 
An astronomer would have enjoyed our opportunities 
for observing the heavens. No doubt this comet had 
been heralded far and wide, but we doubt if any one saw 
it to better advantage than did w^e. 

Later, some coyotes, possibly in chase of a rabbit, gave 
vent to their yodeling cry, and awakened us from a sound 
sleep. They were in a little lateral canyon, which 
magnified and gave a weird, organ-like echo to their 
calls long after the coyotes themselves had passed from 
hearing. 

The nights were getting warmer as we travelled south, 
but not so warm that we were bothered with insects. The 
same reason accounted for the absence of snakes or scor- 
pions, for no doubt there were plenty of both in warm 
weather in this dry country. When there was no wind, 
the silence of the nights was impressive, with no sound 
save the lapping of the water against the banks. Some- 
times a bird in the trees above would start up with a 
twitter, then quiet down again. On occasions the air 
chambers in our boats would contract on cooling off, mak- 
ing a noise like the boom of a distant gun, every little 
sound being magnified by the utter stillness of the night. 



CANYON OF DESOLATION 97 

There were other times when It was not so quiet. 
Hundreds of birds, geese, ducks and mud-hens had been 
seen the last few days. Also there were occasional 
cranes and herons, over a thousand miles from their 
breeding place at the mouth of the Colorado. As dusk 
settled, we would see these birds abandon their feeding 
in the mud, and line up on the shore, or on an island, and go 
to sleep. Occasionally one of these birds would start 
up out of a sound sleep with an unearthly squawk. Pos- 
sibly an otter had interrupted its dreams, or a fox had 
pounced on one as it slept. It may be that it was only a 
bad dream of these enemies that caused their fright, 
but whatever it was, that first call would start up the 
entire flock and they would circle in confusion like a 
stampeded herd of cattle, their discordant cries putting 
an end to the stillness of the night. Finally they would 
settle down in a new spot, and all would be quiet once 
more. 

We saw a few birds that were strangers to us, — water 
birds which we imagined belonged to the salt water 
rather than the' inland streams, making a little excursion, 
perhaps, away from their accustomed haunts. One 
type we saw on two occasions, much like a gull, but 
smaller, pure white as far as we could tell, soaring in 
graceful flight above the river. 

Camp No. 26 was close to the beginning of a new 
canyon. The country had been changing in appearance 



98 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

from rather flat plains to small bare hills, gradually 
increasing in height with smooth, rounded sides, and 
going up to a point, usually of a dirty clay colour, with 
little vegetation of any kind on them. The river for 
miles past had swept in long graceful curves, the hills 
being close to the river on the outside of the curve, leaving 
a big flat on the inside. This flat gradually sloped back 
to hills of an equal height to those opposite. Then the 
curve would reverse, and the same conditions would be 
met with again, but on opposite sides from the previous 
bend. After passing a creek the evening before, the 
hills became higher, and from our camp we could see the 
first place where they came close on both sides to the river. 
We felt now that our beautiful tree-covered canyons 
were behind us and from now on we would be hemmed 
in by the great eroded canyons of the Southwest. We 
were sorry to leave those others behind, and could easily 
understand why Major Powell had named this Desola- 
tion Canyon. 

As the canyon deepened the clifl"s were cut into fan- 
tastic shapes, as is usual in rocks unprotected by vege- 
tation. There was a hard rock near the top in places, 
which overhung a softer formation. This would erode, 
giving a cornice-like effect to the cliffs. Others were 
surmounted by square towers and these were capped by 
a border of little squares, making the whole look much 
like a castle on the Rhine. For half a day we found no 



CANYON OF DESOLATION 99 

rapids, but pulled away on a good current. The walls 
gradually grew higher and were more rugged ; a few trees 
cropped out on their sides. At noon our boats were 
lashed together and lunch was eaten as we drifted. We 
covered about three miles in this way, taking in the 
scenery as we passed. We saw a great stone arch, or 
natural bridge, high on a stupendous cliff to our right, 
and wondered if anyone had ever climbed up to it. Our 
lunch was no more than finished when the first rapid was 
heard ahead of us. Quickly unlashing our boats, we 
prepared for strenuous work. Friday the 13th proved 
to be a lucky day ; thirteen large rapids and thirteen 
small ones were placed behind us before we camped at 
Rock Creek — a splashing, laughing mountain stream, 
no doubt containing trout. 

The following morning we found there was a little 
ranch house below us, but, though we called from our 
boats, no one came out. We wondered how any one could 
reach this out-of-the-way place, as a road would be almost 
an impossibility. Later we found a well-constructed 
trail on the right-hand side all the way through the 
canyon. We saw a great many cattle travelling this 
trail. Some were drinking at the river when we swept 
into view. Our boats filled them with alarm, and they 
scrambled for the hillsides, looking after us with frightened 
expressions as we left them to the rear. 

We put in a full day at running rapids, one after another, 



lOO THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

until fifteen large ones were passed, no count being kept 
of the smaller ones. Some of these rapids resembled 
dams from six to twelve feet high, with the water falling 
abruptly over a steep slope. Others were long and 
rough, with swift water in places. Above one of these 
we had landed, then found we could get a much better 
view from the opposite shore. Emery crossed and 
landed, I followed. We had been having heavy winds 
all day. When crossing here I was caught by a sudden 
gust of wind and carried to the head of the rapid. I heard 
Emery call, ''Look out for the big rock!" then over I 
went. The wind and water together had turned my boat 
sideways, and try as I would I could not get it turned 
around. I saw the rock Emery referred to straight 
ahead of me. It was about fifteen feet square and 
about fourteen feet from the shore, with a powerful current 
shooting between the rock and the shore. It seemed 
as if I must strike the rock broadside, and I ceased my 
struggle, but held out an oar with both hands, hoping to 
break the blow. But it never came. The water struck 
this rock with great force, then rebounded, and actually 
kept me from even touching the rock with the oar, but 
it caught the boat and shot it through the narrow channel, 
bow first, as neatly as it could possibly be done, then 
turned the boat around again as I scrambled to regain 
my hold on both oars. No other rocks threatened, 
however, and besides filling the cockpit with water, no 
damage was done. 



CANYON OF DESOLATION 1 01 

Emery had no desire to follow my passage and crossed 
back to the other side. Shooting over the upper end 
of the rapid, his boat ran up on a rounded rock, the 
stern sticking high in the air; it paused a moment, the 
current slowly turning it around as if on a pivot, and 
the boat slid off; then down he came lurching and 
plunging, but with no more difficulty. Many times in \iJ[Z^ 
such places as these we saw the advantage of our flat- "~ 
bottomed boats over one with a keel, for these would 
surely be upset when running up on such a rock. 



CHAPTER X 

HOSPITABLE RANCHMEN 

The appearance of Desolation Canyon had changed 
entirely in the lower end. Instead of a straight canyon, 
without a break, we were surrounded by mountain 
peaks nearly 2500 feet high, with many side canyons 
between them and with little level parks at the end of 
the canyons beside the river. The tops were pine- 
covered ; cedars clung to the rocky slopes. Some of 
these peaks were not unlike the formations of the Grand 
Canyon, as seen from the inner plateau, and the red colour- 
ing was once more found in the rocks. 

These peaks were gradually dropping down in height ; 
and at one open section, with alfalfa and hay fields 
on gently sloping hillsides, we found a small ranch, 
the buildings being set back from the river. We con- 
cluded to call and found three men, the rancher and 
two young cowboys, at work in a blacksmith shop. 
Emery had forgotten to remove his life-preserver, and the 
men looked at him with some astonishment, as he was still 
soaking wet from the splashing waves of the last rapid. 



HOSPITABLE RANCHMEN IO3 

When I joined him he was explaining that no one had 
been drowned, and that we were merely making an ex- 
cursion down the river. Mr. McPherson, the rancher, 
we learned, owned all the cattle seen up the river. The 
little cabin at our last camp was a sort of headquarters 
for his cowboys. The cattle were just being driven from 
the mountains before the snows came, and were to be 
wintered here in the canyons. Some of these cattle were 
much above the usual grade of range cattle, being 
thoroughbreds, although most of them ran loose on the 
range. This ranch had recently lost a valuable bull 
which had been killed by a bear up in the mountains — 
not unlike similar conflicts in more civilized sections of 
the country. McPherson camped on this bear's trail 
for several days and nights before he finally hung his 
pelt on a tree. He was a large cinnamon-coloured grizzly. 
Four other bears had been killed this same year, in these 
mountains. 

McPherson's home had burned down a short time 
before our visit, and his family had removed to Green 
River, Utah. A number of tents were erected, neatly 
boarded up, and we were informed that one of these 
was reserved for company, so we need not think of going 
any farther that day. These men, while absolutely 
fearless in the saddle, over these rough mountain trails, 
had "no use for the river" they told us ; in fact, we found 
this was the usual attitude of the cattle men wherever we 



I04 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

met them. McPherson's respect for the river was not 
without reason, as his father, with two others, had been 
drowned while making a crossing in a light boat near 
this point, some years before. Some accident occurred, 
possibly the breaking of a rowlock, and they were car- 
ried into a rapid. McPherson's men found it necessary 
to cross their cattle back and forth, but always took the 
wise precaution to have on some life-preservers. These 
cork preservers hung in the blacksmith shop, where 
they could easily be reached at a moment's notice. 

Desolation Canyon, with a slight breaking down 
of the walls for a short distance only, gave place to 
Gray Canyon below the McPherson Ranch. A good- 
sized mountain stream, part of which irrigated the 
ranch above, found its way through this division. We 
had been told that more rapids lay ahead of us in Gray 
Canyon, but they were not so numerous in our next 
day's travel. What we did find were usually large, but 
we ran them all without difficulty. About noon we met 
five men in a boat, rowing up the stream in a long, still 
stretch. They told us they were working on a dam, a 
mile or two below. They followed us down to see us make 
the passage through the rapid which lay above their 
camp. The rapid was long and rocky, having a seventeen- 
foot fall in a half mile. We picked our channel by stand- 
ing up in the boat before entering the rapid and were soon 
at the bottom with no worse mishap than bumping a 



HOSPITABLE RANCHMEN 105 

rock or two rather lightly. We had bailed out and 
were tying our boats, when the men came panting down 
the hill up which they had climbed to see us make this 
plunge. A number of men were at work here, but this 
being Sunday, most of them had gone to Green River, 
Utah, twenty-one miles distant. 

Among the little crowd who came down to see us re- 
sume our rowing was a lady and a little girl who lived in 
a rock building, near the other buildings erected for 
the working-men. Emery showed the child a picture of 
his four-year-old daughter, Edith, with her mother — a 
picture he always carried in a note-book. Then he had 
her get in the boat with him, and we made a photograph 
of them. They were very good friends before we left. 

In a few hours we emerged from the low-walled canyon 
into a level country. A large butte, perhaps 700 feet 
high, stood out by itself, a mile from the main cliifs. 
This was Gunnison Butte, an old landmark near the 
Gunnison trail. We were anxious to reach Blake or 
Green River, Utah, not many miles below, that evening ; 
but we failed to make it. There were several rapids, 
some of them quite large, and we had run them all when 
we came to a low dam that obstructed our passage. 
While looking It over, seeing how best to make a portage, 
a young man whom we had just seen remarked : 

"Well, boys, you had better tie up and I will help you 
in the morning." 



Io6 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

It was 5.30 then, and we were still six miles from Green 
River, so we took his advice and camped. On seeing 
our sleeping bags, tightly strapped and making rather a 
small roll, he remarked : 

"Well, you fellows are not Mormons; I can tell by 
the size of your beds !" 

Our new friend gave the name of Wolverton. There 
was another man named Wilson who owned a ranch 
just below the dam. Both of these men were much in- 
terested in our experiences. Wolverton had consider- 
able knowledge of the river and of boats ; very little per- 
suasion would have been necessary to have had him for 
a companion on the balance of our journey. But we 
had made up our minds to make it alone, now, as it looked 
feasible. Both Wilson and Wolverton knew the country 
below Green River, Utah, having made surveys through 
much of the surrounding territory. Wolverton said we 
must surely see his father, who lived down the river 
and who was an enthusiast on motor boats. A few 
minutes' work the next morning sufficed to get our 
boats over the dam. The dam was constructed of 
loose rock and piles, chinked with brush and covered 
with sloping planks, — just a small dam to raise the 
water for irrigation purposes. Much of the water ran 
through the canal ; in places the planks were dry, in 
others some water ran over. The boats, being unloaded, 
were pulled up on these planks, then slid into the water 




PAT LYNCH; THE CANYON HERMIT. 



Copyright by Kulb Bros. 



HOSPITABLE RANCHMEN 107 

below. Wilson had a large water wheel for irrigation pur- 
poses, the first of several such wheels which we were to see 
this day. These wheels, twenty feet or more in height, 
— with slender metal buckets each holding several gallons 
of water, fastened at intervals on either side, — were 
placed in a swift current, anchored on the shore to stout 
piles, or erected over mill-races cut in the banks. There they 
revolved, the buckets filling and emptying automatically, 
the water running ofi" in troughs above the level of the 
river back to the fertile soil. Some of these wheels had 
ingenious floating arrangements whereby they accom- 
modated themselves to the difi'erent stages of a rising 
or falling river. We took a few pictures of Wilson's 
place before leaving. He informed us that he had tele- 
phoned to certain people in Green River who would 
help us in various ways. Two hours' rowing, past many 
pretty little ranches, brought us to the railroad bridge, 
a grateful sight to us. A pumping plant stood beside 
the bridge under charge of Captain Yokey, one of Wilson's .^_ 
friends. Yokey owned a large motor boat, which was ^ 
tied up to the'shore. Our boats were left in his charge a^^^jJS* 
while we went up to the town, a mile distant. Another 
of Wilson's friends met us, and secured a dark room for 
us, so that we could do a little developing and we pre- 
pared for work on the following day. 

That night a newspaper reporter hunted us out, 
anxious for a story. We gave him what we had, making 



I08 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

light of our previous difficulties, which were exciting 
enough at times ; but owing to the comparatively small 
size of the stream, we seldom thought our lives were in 
any great danger. The papers made the most of these 
things, and the stories that came out had little sem- 
blance to our original statements. We have since 
learned that no matter how much one minimizes such 
things, they are seldom published as reported. 

We put in a busy day unpacking new films and plates, 
developing all films from the smaller cameras and send- 
ing these home. A new stock of provisions had to be 
purchased, enough for one month at least, for there was 
no chance of securing supplies until we reached our can- 
yon home, about 425 miles below. 

We had a valuable addition to our cargo in two metal 
boxes that had been shipped here, as it was not possible 
to get them before leaving Wyoming. These cases or 
trunks were sent from England, and were water-tight, 
if not waterproof, there being a slight difference. Well 
constructed, with rubber gaskets and heavy clamps, every 
possible precaution had been taken, it seemed, to exclude 
the water and still render them easy of access. They 
were about thirty inches long, fifteen wide, and twelve 
high, just the thing for our photographic material. Up 
to this time everything had to be kept under the decks 
when in bad water. These boxes were placed in the 
open section in front of us, and were thoroughly fastened 



HOSPITABLE RANCHMEN 



109 



to the ribs to prevent loss, ready to be opened or closed 
in a moment, quite a convenience when pictures had to 
be taken hurriedly. 

The following day we went over the boats, caulking 
a few leaks. The bottoms of the boats were considerably 
the worse for wear, owing to our difficulties in the first 
canyons. We got some thin oak strips and nailed them 
on the bottom to help protect them, when portaging. 
Sliding the boats on the scouring sand and rough-sur- 
faced rock was hard on the half-inch boards on the bottom 
of the boats. This work was all completed that day, and 
everything was ready for the next plunge. 

In passing the station, we noticed the elevation above 
sea-level was placed at 4085 feet, and remembered that 
Green River, Wyoming, was 6080 feet, showing that our 
descent in the past 425 miles had been close to 2000 feet. 
We had not found it necessary to line or portage any 
rapids since leaving Lodore Canyon ; we were hopeful 
that our good luck would continue. 

Nothing was to be feared from what remained of the 
Green River, 120 miles or more, for motor boats made the 
journey to its junction with the Grand, and we were 
told even ascended the Grand for some distance. Below 
this junction was the Colorado River, a different stream 
from the one we were still to navigate. 

Before leaving, we ate a final hearty breakfast at the 
boarding-house where we had been taking our meals. 



no THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

A number of young men, clerks in some of the business 
houses here, were among the boarders. The landlady, 
a whole-souled German woman and an excellent cook, 
was greatly worried over their small appetites, thinking 
it was a reflection on her table. She remarked that she 
hoped we had good appetites, and I am sure she had 
no complaint to make so far as we were concerned. We 
had never stinted ourselves when on the river, but the 
change and the rest seemed to give us an abnormal 
appetite that could not be satisfied, and we would simply 
quit eating because we were ashamed to eat more. Less 
than half an hour after one of these big meals, I was sur- 
prised to see my brother in a restaurant with a sheepish 
grin on his face, and with a good-sized lunch before him. 



CHAPTER XI 

WONDERS OF EROSION 

Thursday, October the igth. We embarked again with 
two of our new-found friends on board as passengers for 
a short ride, their intention being to hunt as they walked 
back. They left us at a ranch beside the San Rafael 
River, a small stream entering from the west. They 
left some mail with us to be delivered to Mr. Wolverton, 
whose son we had met above. About 20 miles below 
Green River we reached his home. Judging by a number 
of boats — both motor and row boats — tied to his 
landing, Mr. Wolverton was an enthusiastic river-man. 
After glancing over his mail, he asked how we had come 
and was interested when he learned that we were making 
a boating trip. He was decidedly interested when he 
saw the boats and learned that we were going to our 
home in the Grand Canyon. His first impression was 
that we were merely making a little pleasure trip on the 
quiet water. 

Going carefully over the boats, he remarked that they 
met with his approval with one exception. They 



112 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

seemed to be a little bit short for the heavy rapids of the 
Colorado, he thought. He agreed that our experience 
in the upper rapids had been good training, but said there 
was no comparison in the rapids. We would have a 
river ten times as great as in Lodore to contend with ; 
and in numerous places, for short distances, the descent 
was as abrupt as anything we had seen on the Green. 
Wolverton was personally acquainted with a number of 
the men who had made the river trip, and, with the one 
exception of Major Powell's expeditions, had met all 
the parties who had successfully navigated its waters. 
This not only included Galloway's and Stone's respective 
expeditions, which had made the entire trip, but included 
two other expeditions which began at Green River, Utah, 
and had gone through the canyons of the Colorado.^ 
These were the Brown-Stanton expedition, which made 
a railroad survey through the canyons of the Colorado ; 
and another commonly known as the Russell-Monnette 
expedition, two of the party making the complete trip, 
arriving at Needles after a voyage filled with adventure 
and many narrow escapes. Mr. Wolverton remarked 
that every one knew of those who had navigated the entire 
series of canyons, but that few people knew of those who 



1 Brown-Stanton. May 25, 1889. 
Russell-Monnette. Sept. 20, 1907. 

For a more complete record of these expeditions, as well as others who attempted 
the passage of the canyons below this point, see appendix. 



A 



WONDERS OF EROSION II3 

had been unsuccessful. He knew of seven parties that 
had failed to get through Cataract Canyon's forty-one 
miles of rapids, with their boats, most of them never 
being heard of again. 

These unsuccessful parties were often miners or pros- 
pectors who wished to get into the comparatively flat 
country which began about fifty miles below the Junction 
of the Green and the Grand rivers. Here lay Glen 
Canyon, with 150 miles of quiet water. Nothing need 
be feared in this, or in the 120 miles of good boating from 
Green River, Utah, to the junction. Between these two 
points, however, lay Cataract Canyon, beginning at 
the junction of the two rivers. Judging by its unsavory 
record, Cataract Canyon was something to be feared. 

Among these parties who had made short trips on the 
river was one composed of two men. Phil Foote was 
a gambler, stage robber, and bad man in general. He 
had broken out of jail in Salt Lake City and, accompanied 
by another of similar character, stole a boat at Green 
River, Utah, and proceeded down the river. Soon after 
entering Cataract Canyon, they lost their boat and provi- 
sions. Finding a tent which had been washed down the 
river, they tore it into strips and constructed a raft out 
of driftwood, tying the logs together with the strips of 
canvas. Days of hardship followed, and starvation stared 
them in the face ; until finally Foote's partner gave up, 
and said he would drown himself. With an oath Foote 



114 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

drew his revolver, saying he had enough of such cowardice 
and would save him the trouble. His companion then 
begged for his life, saying he would stick to the end, and 
they finally got through to the Hite ranch, which lay a 
short distance below. They were taken care of here, 
and terminated their voyage a short distance beyond, 
going out over land. Foote was afterwards shot and 
killed while holding up a stage in Nevada. 

The Hite ranch also proved to be a place of refuge for 
others, the sole survivors of two other parties who were 
wrecked, one person escaping on each occasion. Hite's 
ranch, and Lee's Ferry, 140 miles below Hite, had mail 
service. We had left instructions at the post-ofHce to 
forward our mail to one or the other of these points. 
These were also the only places on our 425-mile run to 
Bright Angel Trail where we could expect to see any 
people, so we were informed. We were about to descend 
into what is, possibly, the least inhabited portion of the 
United States of America. 

A party of civil engineers working here, joined us 
that evening at Wolverton's home. A young man in 
the party asked us if we would consent to carry a letter 
through with us and mail it at our destination. He 
thought it would be an interesting souvenir for the person 
to whom it was addressed. We agreed to do our best, 
but would not guarantee delivery. The next morning 
two letters were given us to mail, and were accepted 





<^'> 





SKELETON FOUND IX THE GRAND CANYON. 



^ 



WONDERS OF EROSION II5 

with this one reservation. Before leaving Mr. Wolverton 
showed us his motor boat with much pardonable pride. 
On this boat he sometimes took small parties down to 
the beginning of the Colorado River, and up the Grand, 
a round trip of three hundred miles or more. The boat 
had never been taken down the Colorado for the simple 
reason that the rapids began almost immediately below 
the junction. 

Wolverton, while he had never been through the 
rapids in a boat, had followed the river on foot for several 
miles and was thoroughly familiar with their nature. 
On parting he remarked, 

"Well, boys, you are going to tackle a mighty hard 
proposition, but I'm sure you can make it if you are only 
careful. But look out and go easy." 

Wolverton was no novice, speaking from much experi- 
ence in bad water, and we were greatly impressed by 
what he had to say. 

Five uneventful days were spent in Labyrinth and 
Stillwater canyons, through which the Green peace- 
fully completed its rather violent descent. In the upper 
end we usually found rough water in the canyons and 
quiet water In the open sections. Here at least were two 
canyons, varying from 300 feet at their beginning to 1300 
feet in depth, both without a rapid. The first of these was 
Labyrinth Canyon, so named from its elaborately wind- 
ing course as well as its wonderful intricate system of 



Il6 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

dry, lateral canyons, and its reproduction in rock of archi- 
tectural forms, castles, arches, and grottos ; even animals 
and people were represented in every varying form. 

Our Sunday camp was beside what might be called 
a serpentine curve or series of loops in the river. This 
was at the centre of what is known as the Double Bow 
Knot, three rounded loops, very symmetrical in form, with 
an almost circular formation of flat-topped rock, a mile or 
more in diameter in the centre of each loop. A narrow 
neck of rock connects these formations to the main mesa, all 
being on the same level, about 700 feet above the river. 
The upper half of the rock walls was sheer; below was a 
steep boulder-covered slope. The centre formation is 
the largest and most perfect, being nearly two miles in 
diameter and almost round ; so much so, that a very 
few minutes are necessary to climb over the narrow neck 
which connects this formation to the mesa. It took 
45 minutes of hard rowing on a good current to take us 
around this one loop. The neck is being rapidly eroded, 
two hundred feet having disappeared from the top, and 
at some distant day will doubtless disappear entirely, 
making a short cut for the river, and will leave a rounded 
island of rock standing seven hundred feet above the 
river. A bird's-eye view of the three loops would com- 
pare well in shape to the little mechanical contrivance 
known as the "eye" in the combination of "hook and 
eye." All women and many men will get a clear idea 



WONDERS OF EROSION II7 

of the shape of the Double Bow Knot from this com- 
parison. 

We recorded an interesting experiment with the ther- 
mometer at this camp, showing a great variety of tem- 
peratures, unbelievable almost to one who knows noth- 
ing of conditions in these semi-arid plateaus. A little 
ice had formed the night before. Under a clear sky the 
next day at noon, our thermometer recorded 54 degrees in 
the shade, but ran up to 102 degrees in the sun. At the 
same time the water in the river was 52 degrees Far. 
The effect of being deluged in ice-cold waves, then running 
into deep sunless canyons with a cold wind sweeping 
down from the snow on top, can be easier imagined than 
described. This is what we could expect to meet later. 

The colouring of the rocks varied greatly in many lo- 
calities, a light red predominating. In some places the 
red rock was capped by a gray, flint-like limestone; in 
others this had disappeared, but underneath the red 
were regular strata of various-coloured rocks, pink, 
brown, light yellow, even blue and green being found in 
two or three sections. 

The forms of erosion were as varied as the rock itself, 
each different-coloured rock stratum presenting a different 
surface. In one place the surface was broken into rounded 
forms like the backs of a herd of elephants. In others 
we saw reproductions of images, carved by the drifting 
sands — a Diana, with uplifted arm, as large as the 



Il8 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

Goddess of Liberty ; a Billiken on a throne with a hun- 
dred worshippers bowed around. Covered with nature- 
made ruins and magnificent rock structures, as this 
section is, it is not entirely without utility. It is a grazing 
country. Great numbers of contented cattle, white- 
faced, with red and white, or black and white patches of 
colour on their well-filled hides, were found in the open 
spaces between the sheer-walled cliffs. Dusty, well- 
beaten trails led down through these wide canyons, 
trails which undoubtedly gained the top of the level, 
rocky plateau a few miles back from the river. As is 
usual in a cattle country at the end of the summer season, 
the bunch-grass, close to the water supply — which in 
this case happened to the river — was nibbled close 
to the roots. The cattle only came here to drink, then 
travelled many miles, no doubt, to the better grazing on 
the upper plateaus. The sage, always gray, was grayer 
still, with dust raised by many passing herds. There 
was a band of range horses too, those splendid wild-eyed 
animals with kingly bearing, and wind-blown tails and 
manes, lean like a race-horse, strong-muscled and tough- 
sinewed, pawing and neighing, half defiant and half 
afraid of the sight of men, the only thing alive to which 
they pay tribute. 

It is a never ending source of wonder, to those un- 
acquainted with the semi-arid country, how these ani- 
mals can exist in a land which, to them, seems utterly 



WONDERS OF EROSION II9 

destitute and barren. To many such, a meadow car- 
peted with blue grass or timothy is the only pasture on 
which grazing horses or grazing cattle can exist ; the 
dried-out looking tufts of bunch-grass, scattered here 
and there or sheltered at the roots of the sage, mean 
nothing ; the grama-grass hidden in the grease-wood 
is unnoticed or mistaken for a weed. 

But if the land was bare of verdure, the rock saved 
it from being monotonous. Varied in colour, the red rock 
predominated — blood-red at mid-day, orange-tinted 
at sunset, with gauze-like purple shadows, and with the 
delicate blue outlines always found in the Western dis- 
tances ; such a land could never be called uninteresting. 

The banks of the stream, here in the open, were always 
green. From an elevation they appeared like two emerald 
bands through a land of red, bordering a stream the tint 
of the aged pottery found along its shores. We were 
continually finding new trees and strange shrubs. Beside 
the cottonwoods and the willows there was an occasional 
wild-cherry tree; in the shrubs were the service-berry, 
and the squaw-berry, with sticky, acid-tasting fruit. 
The cacti were small, and excepting the prickly pear 
were confined nearly altogether to a small "pin-cush- 
ion" cactus, growing a little larger as we travelled 
south. And always in the mornings when out of the 
deep canyons the moist, pungent odour of the sage greeted 
our nostrils. It is inseparable from the West. There is 



I20 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

no Stuffy germ-laden air there, out in the sage ; one is 
glad to live, simply to breathe it in and exhale and breathe 
again. 

In Stillwater Canyon the walls ran up to 1300 feet 
in height, a narrow canyon, with precipitous sides. 
Occasionally we could see great columns of rock standing 
on top of the mesa. Late one evening we saw some small 
cliff dwellings several hundred feet above the river, and 
a few crude ladders leaning against the cliff below the 
dwellings. A suitable camp could not be made here, or 
we would have stopped to examine them. The shores 
were slippery with mud and quicksands, and there was 
no fire-wood in sight. From here to the end of the canyons 
we would have to depend almost entirely on the drift- 
piles for fire-wood. 

A landing was finally made where a section of a cliff 
had toppled from above, affording a solid footing leading 
up to the higher bank. We judged from our maps that 
we were within a very few miles of the Colorado River. 
Here some footprints and signs of an old boat landing, 
apparently about a week old, were seen in the sand. 
This surprised us somewhat, as we had heard of no one 
coming down ahead of us. 



CHAPTER XII 

COULD WE SUCCEED ? 

An hour or two at the oars the next morning sufficed 
to bring us to the junction of the Green and the Grand 
rivers. We tied up our boats, and prepared to climb 
out on top, as we had a desire to see the view from above. 
A mile back on the Green we had noticed a sort of canyon 
or slope breaking down on the west side, affording a 
chance to reach the top. Loading ourselves with a 
light lunch, a full canteen, and our smaller cameras, we 
returned to this point and proceeded to climb out. Pow- 
ell's second expedition had climbed out at this same 
place ; Wolverton had also mentioned the fact that he 
had been out ; so we were quite sure of a successful at- 
tempt before we made the climb. 

The walk close to the river, over rocks and along 
narrow ledges, was hard work; the climb out was even 
more so. The contour maps which we carried credited 
these walls with 1300 feet height. If we had any doubt 
concerning the accuracy of this, it disappeared before we 
finally reached the top. What we saw, however, was 



122 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

worth all the discomfort we had undergone. Close to 
the top, three branches of dry, rock-bottomed gullies, 
carved from a gritty, homogeneous sandstone, spread 
out from the slope we had been climbing. These were 
less precipitous. Taking the extreme left-hand gully, 
we found the climb to the top much easier. At the very 
end we found an irregular hole a few feet in diameter, 
not a cave, but an opening left between some immense 
rocks, touching at the top, seemingly rolled together. 

Gazing down through this opening, we were amazed 
to find that we were directly above the Colorado itself. 
It was so confusing at first that we had to climb to the 
very top to see which river it was, I contending that it 
was the Green, until satisfied that I was mistaken. The 
view from the top was overwhelming, and words can 
hardly describe what we saw, or how we were affected 
by it. 

We found ourselves on top of an irregular plateau 
of solid rock, with no earth or vegetation save a few little 
bushes and some very small cedars in cracks in the rocks. 
Branching canyons, three or four hundred feet in depth, 
and great fissures ran down in this rock at intervals. Some 
were dark and crooked, and the bottom could not be seen. 
Between these cracks, the rock rounded like elephants' 
backs sloping steeply on either side. Some could be crossed, 
some could not. Others resembled a "maze," the puzzle 
being how to get from one point to another a few 



COULD WE SUCCEED? 1 23 

feet away. The rock was a sandstone and presented 
a rough surface affording a good hold, so there was little 
danger of slipping. We usually sat down and "inched" 
our way to the edge of the cracks, jumping across to 
little ledges when possible, always helping each other. 

The rock at the very edge of the main canyon over- 
hung, in places 75 to 100 feet, and the great mass of 
gigantic boulders — sections of shattered cliffs — on the 
steep slope near the river gave evidence of a continual 
breaking away of these immense rocks. 

To the north, across the canyon up which we had 
climbed, were a great number of smooth formations, 
from one hundred to four hundred feet high, rounded on 
top in domes, reminding one of Bagdad and tales from the 
Arabian Nights. "The Land of Standing Rocks," the 
Utes call it. The rock on which we stood was light 
gray or nearly white ; the river walls at the base for a 
thousand feet above the river were dark red or chocolate- 
brown ; while the tops of the formations above this level 
were a beautiful light red tint. 

But there were other wonders. On the south side 
of the Colorado's gorge, miles away, were great spires, 
pointing heavenward, singly and in groups, looking like 
a city of churches. Beyond the spires were the Blue 
Mountains, to the east the hazy LaSalle range, and 
nearest of all on the west just north of the Colorado lay 
the snow-covered peaks of the Henry Mountains. Di- 



124 



THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 



rectly below us was the Colorado River, muddy, swirling, 
and forbidding. A mile away boomed a rapid, beyond 
that was another, then the river was lost to view. 

Standing on the brink of all this desolation, It is 
small wonder if we recalled the accounts of the disasters 
which had overtaken so many others in the canyon 
below us. Many who had escaped the water had climbed 
out on to this death trap, as it had proven to be for them, 
some to perish of thirst and starvation, a few to stagger 
into the ranch below the canyon, a week or more after 
they had escaped from the water. Small wonder that 
some of these had lost their reason. We could only 
conjecture at the fate of the party whose wrecked boat 
had been found by the Stone expedition, a few miles below 
this place, with their tracks still fresh in the sand. No 
trace of them was ever found. 

For the first time it began to dawn on us that we 
might have tackled a job beyond our power to complete. 
Most of the parties which had safely completed the trip 
were composed of several men, adding much to the safety 
of the expedition, as a whole. Others had boats much 
lighter than ours, a great help in many respects. Speak- 
ing for myself, I was just a little faint-hearted, and not 
a little overawed as we prepared to return to the boats. 

While returning, we saw evidences of ancient Indians 
— some broken arrow-heads, and pottery also, and a 
small cliff ruin under a shelving rock. 




Copyrighl by Kolb Bros. 
THIRTEEN HUNDRED FEET ABOVE THE GREEN RIVER. NOTE FIGURE. 



COULD WE SUCCEED? I 25 

What could an Indian find here to interest him ! 
We had found neither bird, nor rabbit ; not even a lizard 
in the Land of Standing Rocks. Perhaps they were sun 
worshippers, and wanted an unobstructed view of the 
eastern sky. That at least could be had, in unrivalled 
grandeur, here above the Rio Colorado. 

The shadows were beginning to lengthen when we 
finally reached our boats at the junction. Camp was 
made under a large weeping willow tree, the only tree 
of its kind we remembered having seen on the journey. 

While Emery prepared a hasty meal I made a few 
arrangements for embarking on the Colorado River the 
next morning. We were prepared to bid farewell to 
the Green River — the stream that had served us so 
well. In spite of our trials, even in the upper canyons, 
we had found much enjoyment in our passage through its 
strange and beautiful surroundings. 

From a scenic point of view the canyons of the Green 
River, with their wonderful rock formations and stupend- 
ous gorges, are second only to those of the Colorado itself. 
It is strange they are so little known, when one considers 
the comparative ease with which these canyons on the 
lower end can be reached. Some day perhaps, surfeited 
globe-trotters, after having tired of commonplace scenery 
and foreign lands, will learn what a wonderful region 
this is, here on the lower end of the Green River. 

Then no doubt, Wolverton, or others with similar 



126 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

outfits, will find a steady stream of sight-seers anxious 
to take the motor boat ride down to this point, and up 
to Moab, Utah, a little Mormon town on the Grand River. 
A short ride by automobile from Moab to the D. & R. G. 
railway would complete a most wonderful journey ; then 
the transcontinental journey could be resumed. 

So I mused, as I contrived an arrangement of iron 
hooks and oak sticks to hold on a hatch cover, from which 
all the thumb screws had been lost. More than likely 
my dream of a line of sight-seeing motor boats will be 
long deferred ; or they may even meet the fate of Brown's 
and Stanton's plans for a railroad down these gorges. 

As a reminder of the fate which overtakes so many 
of our feeble plans, we found a record of Stanton's survey 
on a fallen boulder, an inscription reading "A 8 1 -1- 50, 
Sta. D.C.C. & P.R.R.," the] abbreviations standing 
for Denver, Colorado Canyons, and Pacific Railroad. 
It is possible that the hands that chiselled the inscription 
belonged to one of the three men who were afterwards 
drowned in Marble Canyon. 

Emery — being very practical — interrupted my rev- 
ery and plans for future sight-seers by announcing sup- 
per. The meal was limited in variety, but generous in 
quantity, and consisted of a dried-beef stew, fried potatoes, 
and cocoa. A satisfied interior soon dispelled all our 
previous apprehensiveness. We decided not to run our 
rapids before we came to them. 



COULD WE SUCCEED? I 27 

The water still gave indications of being higher than 
the low-water mark, although it was falling fast on the 
Green River, Each morning, for three days previous 
to our arrival at the junction, we would find the water 
about six inches lower than the stage of the evening be- 
fore. Strange to say, we gained on the water with each 
day's rowing, until we had almost overtaken the stage 
of water we had lost during the night. More than likely 
we would have all the water we needed under the new 
conditions which were before us. 

Beginning with the Colorado River, we made our 
journals much more complete in some ways, giving all 
the large rapids a number and describing many of them 
in detail. This was done, not only for our own satis- 
faction, but for the purpose of comparison with others who 
had gone through, for many of these rapids have histories. 

It was often a question, when on the Green River, 
where to draw the line when counting a rapid ; this was 
less difTicult when on the Colorado. While the descent 
was about the same as In some of the rapids above, the 
increased volume of water made them look and act 
decidedly different. We drew the line, when counting a 
rapid, at a descent having a decided agitation of the water, 
hidden rocks, or swift descent and with an eddy or whirl- 
pool below. Major Powell considered that many of 
these drops in the next canyon were above the ordinary 
rapid, hence the name, Cataract Canyon. 



128 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

At one of the camps below Green River, Utah, my 
boat had been christened the Defiance, by painting the 
name on the bow. After leaving the Green we usually 
referred to the boats by their respective names, Emery 
being in the Edith, I in the Defiance. 



CHAPTER XIII 

A COMPANION VOYAGER 

Thursday morning, October the 26th, found Emery- 
feeling very poorly, but insisting on going ahead with 
our day's work, so Camp No. 34 was soon behind us. 
We were embarked on a new stream, flowing west-south- 
west, with a body of water ten times the size of that 
which we had found in the upper canyons of the Green. 
Our sixteen-foot boats looked quite small when compared 
with the united currents of the Green and the Grand 
rivers. The Colorado River must have been about 
350 feet wide here just below the junction, with a three- 
mile current, and possibly twenty-five feet deep, although 
this is only a guess. The Grand River appeared to be the 
higher of the two streams, and had a decidedly red colour, 
as though a recent storm was being carried down its 
gorges ; while the colour of the Green was more of a coffee 
colour — coffee with a little cream in it. 

A fourth of a mile below the junction the two currents 
began to mix, with a great ado about it, with small whirl- 

K 129 



130 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

pools and swift eddies, and sudden outbursts from beneath, 
as though a strangled current was struggling to escape 
from the weight which overpowered it. The boats were 
twisted this way and that, and hard rowing was neces- 
_ sary to carry us down to the steadied current, and to the 
V^ first rapid, which we could hear when yet far above it. 

Soon we were running rapids again, and getting a 
lot of sport out of it. There were some rocks, but there 
was water enough so that these could be avoided. If one 
channel did not suit us, we took another, and although we 
were drenched in every rapid, and the cockpit was half 
filled each time, it was not cold enough to cause us any 
great discomfort, and we bailed out at the end of each 
rapid, then hurried on to tackle the next. Each of these 
rapids was from a fourth to a third of a mile in length. 
The average was at least one big rapid to the mile. When 
No. 5 was reached we paused a little longer, and looked 
it over more carefully than we had the others. It had 
a short, quick descent, then a long line of white-topped 
waves, with a big whirlpool on the right. There were 
numerous rocks which would take careful work to avoid. 
The waves were big, — big enough for a motion picture, 
— so Emery remained on shore with both the motion- 
picture camera and the 8Xio plate camera in position, 
ready to take the picture, while I ran my boat. 

At the head of this rapid we saw footprints in the 
sand, but not made with the same shoe as that which 



A COMPANION VOYAGER 131 

we had noticed above the junction. We had also seen 
signs of a camp, and some fishes' heads above this point, 
and what we took to be a dog's track along the shore. 

At the head of the next rapid we saw them again, 
but on the opposite side of the river, and could see where 
a boat had been pulled up on the sand. This next rapid 
was almost as bad as the one above it, but with a longer 
descent, instead of one abrupt drop. The following 
rapid was so close that we continued along the shore to 
look it over at the same time, saving a stop between the 
two rapids. The shores were strewn with a litter of 
gigantic boulders — fallen sections of the overhanging 
cliffs. We found more of this in Cataract Canyon than 
in any of the canyons above. This was partly responsible 
for the violence of the rapids, although the descent of 
the river would make rough water even if there were no 
boulders. Working back along the shore, we were sud- 
denly electrified into quick action by seeing the Edith 
come floating down the river, close to the shore and almost 
in the rapid. Emery was a short distance ahead and 
ran for the Defiance; I caught up a long pole and got on a 
projecting rock, hoping I might steer her in. She passed 
me, and was soon in the midst of the rapid before Emery 
had launched the boat. Three gigantic boulders extended 
above the water about fifty feet from shore, with a very 
crooked channel between. Down toward these boulders 
came the Edith, plunging like a thing possessed. How it was 



132 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

done I could never tell, but she passed through the crooked 
channel without once touching, and continued over the 
rapid. Meanwhile Emery had run the other side and 
had gained on the Ediths but only caught her when close 
to the next rapid ; so he turned her loose and came to 
the shore for me. 

Emery had not been feeling his best and I advised 
him to remain on shore while I took the boat. As we 
made the change we again observed the boat, bounding 
through the next rapid, whirling on the tops of the waves 
as though in the hands of a superhuman juggler. I 
managed to overtake her in a whirlpool below the rapid, 
and came to shore for her captain. He was nearly ex- 
hausted with his efforts ; still he insisted on continuing. 
A few miles below we saw some ducks, and shot at 
them with a revolver. But the ducks flew disdainfully 
away, and landed in the pool below. 

By 4.30 P.M. we were twelve miles below the junction, 
a very good day's run considering the kind of water we 
were travelling on, and the amount of time we spent on 
the shore. We had just run our twelfth rapid, and were 
turning the boats around, when we saw a man back 
from the shore working over a pile of boxes which he had 
covered with a piece of canvas. A boat was tied to 
the water's edge. We called to him, and he answered, 
but did not seem nearly as much interested in seeing 
companion travellers as we were, and proceeded with his 



A COMPANION VOYAGER I33 

'work. We landed, and, to save time, introduced our- 
selves, as there seemed to be a certain aloofness in his 
manner. He gave the name of Smith — with some hesi- 
tation, we thought. 

Smith was about medium size, but looked tough and 
wiry ; he had a sandy complexion, with light hair and 
mustache. He had lost one eye, the other was that 
light gray colour that is usually associated with indomi- 
table nerve. He had a shrewd, rather humorous expres- 
sion, and gave one the impression of being very capable. 
Dressed in a neat whipcord suit, wearing light shoes and 
a carefully tied tie, recently shaved — a luxury we 
had denied ourselves, all this time — he was certainly 
an interesting character to meet in this out-of-the-way 
place. We should judge he was a little over forty years 
old ; but whether prospector, trapper, or explorer it was 
hard to say. Some coyote skins, drying on a rock, would 
give one the impression that he was the second, with a 
touch of the latter thrown in. These coyotes were 
responsible for the tracks we had seen, and had mis- 
taken for dog tracks, but of all the canyons we had 
seen he was in the last place where we would expect to 
find a trapper. The coyotes evidently reached the 
river gorge through side canyons on the left, where we 
had seen signs of ancient trails. Apart from that there 
was no sign of animal life. With the last of the wooded 
canyons, the signs of beaver had disappeared. There 



134 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

were a few otter tracks, but they are wily fellows, and 
are seldom trapped. While there are laws against 
the trapping of beaver, they seldom prevent the trappers 
from taking them when they get the chance ; they are 
only a little more wary of strangers ; the thought occurred 
to us that this trapper may have secured some beaver in 
the open sections above, and mistrusted us for this 
reason. 

It was too late to go any farther that evening, so we 
camped a hundred yards below him, close to where our 
boats were pulled out. At this place there was a long, 
wide flat in the canyon, with plenty of driftwood, so we 
saw no reason why we should quarrel with our neighbour. 
Smith accepted our invitation to supper, stating that he 
had just eaten before we arrived, but enjoyed some pine- 
apple which we had kept for some special occasion, and 
which was served for dessert. 

Over the table we became better acquainted, and, 
after learning what we were doing, he recounted his experi- 
ences. He told us he had left Green River, Utah, a month 
before, and had been trapping as he came along. He 
knew there was a canyon, and some rapids below, but 
had no idea they were so bad, and thought they were 
about ended. No one had warned him, for he had told 
no one what he intended doing. He had bought an old 
water-logged boat that had been built by Galloway, and 
seeing the uselessness of trying to run the rapids with it. 




Copyright by Kolb Bros. 



LOOKING WEST INTO CATARACT CANYON. 




CHARLES SMITH AND HIS BOAT. 



A COMPANION VOYAGER 



135 



had worked it down along the shores by holding it with 
a light chain. Once he had been pulled into the river, 
twice the boat had been upset, and he was just about 
dried out from the last spill when we arrived. He had 
heard us shooting at the ducks, so rather expected com- 
pany — this in brief was his amazing story. 

We were surprised when we examined the boat closely. 
It had been well made, but was so old and rotten that it 
seemed ready to fall to pieces. In places, the nail heads 
had pulled through the boards. It was entirely open 
on top — a great risk in such water. His boxes were tied 
in to prevent loss. These boxes were now piled on the 
shore, with a large canvas thrown over them. This 
canvas, fastened at the top and sloping to the ground, 
served him for a tent ; his bed was underneath. A pair 
of high-topped boots, placed bottom up over two sticks, 
stuck in the sand beside the camp-fire, explained the dif- 
ferent tracks we had seen above. 

Smith evidently was not much alarmed over his 
situation. About the only thing that seemed to bother 
him was the fact that his smoking tobacco had been wet 
several times. That evening we got out our guide-book 
— Dellenbaugh's " A Canyon Voyage " — and tried to 
give him an idea of what was ahead. The walls ahead 
grew higher, and closer together ; sometimes there was a 
shore on one side, sometimes on the other, at one or two 
places there was no shore on either side, and the rapids 



136 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

continued to get worse, — so we gathered from Dellen- 
baugh's experience. Above this point there were several 
places where one could climb out, — we had even seen 
signs of ancient trails in two side canyons, — below here 
few such places existed. 

Smith listened to all this attentively, then smiled 
and said "I guess there will be some way through." 
After a short visit he returned to his camp. We noticed 
that he slept on his gun, — to keep it dry, no doubt, for 
it looked like rain. 

Morning found us very sorry that we had not erected 
our tent, for it rained nearly all night, but when once in 
our beds it was a question which was preferable ; to get 
out in the rain and put up our tent, or remain in our 
comfortable beds. We remained where we were. As we 
prepared to leave, we offered Smith a chance to accom- 
pany us through Cataract Canyon, telling him that we 
would help him with his boat until the quiet water of 
Glen Canyon was reached. He declined the opportunity, 
saying that he would rather travel slowly and do what 
trapping he could. He welcomed a chance to take a 
ride on the Defiance, however. We took him over two 
small rapids, and gave him an insight into our method 
of avoiding the dangers. He was very enthusiastic about 
it. On reaching the next rapid we all concluded it would 
be very unwise to carry any passengers, for it was violent 
water, so he got out on the shore. 



A COMPANION VOYAGER 



137 



Smith had once seen some moving pictures of Japanese 
shooting rapids, but he said they were nothing compared 
to these, remarking that a bronco could hardly buck any 
harder. The next rapid was just as bad. Rapid No. 14 
for Cataract Canyon, and Smith helped us secure a mo- 
tion picture. Then he prepared to return to his camp. 
Just before leaving he explained rather apologetically, 
that ranchers, or others, were usually very unfriendly to 
a stranger coming into their section of the country. 
He had heard us shooting at the ducks and he imagined 
we belonged in some of the side canyons or on the top. 
This explained his puzzling attitude at our first meeting. 
If he had any beaver skins in his pack this would make 
him even more suspicious of strangers. We wished him 
nothing but the best of luck, and were good friends when 
we parted. His decision to make the trip alone, poorly 
equipped as he was, seemed like suicide to us. He prom- 
ised to write to us if he got out, and with a final wave 
of the hand we left him on the shore. 

The rapid just passed was possibly the scene of the 
disaster discovered by the Stone expedition. They 
found a clumsy boat close to the shore, jammed in a 
mass of rocks, smashed and abandoned. There were 
tracks of three people in the sand, one track being a 
boy's. A coat was left on the shore. The tracks disap- 
peared up a box canyon. Mr. Stone corresponded with 
the only settlements in all that region, few in number, 






138 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

and far distant ; but nothing was ever heard of them. 
Two other parties have left Green River, Utah, within 
a year of this find and disappeared in like manner. This 
seemed to be the usual result of these attempts. In 
nearly every case they have started in boats that are 
entirely unfitted for rough water, and, seemingly without 
any knowledge of the real danger ahead, try to follow 
where others, properly equipped, have gone through. 

What a day of excitement that was ! We always 
thought we needed a certain amount of thrills to make 
life sufficiently interesting for us. In a few hours' time, 
in the central portion of Cataract Canyon, we experi- 
enced nearly enough thrills to last us a lifetime. In 
one or two of the upper canyons we thought we were 
running rapids. Now we were learning what rapids 
really were. No sooner were we through one than another 
presented itself. At each of them we climbed along 
the boulder-strewn shores — the lower slopes growing 
steeper, the walls above towering higher — clear to the 
end of the rapid. Looking upstream we could pick 
out the submerged rocks hidden in the muddy water, 
and looking like an Innocent wave from above. Twice 
we had picked out channels in sharp drops, after care- 
fully observing their actions and deciding they were 
free from obstructions, when suddenly the waves would 
part for an instant and disclose a hidden rock — in one 
case as sharp as a hound's tooth — sure disaster if we ever 



A COMPANION VOYAGER 1 39 

Struck it. As soon as we had decided on a channel we 
would lose no time in getting back to our boats and run- 
ning it, for we could feel our courage oozing from our 
finger tips with each second's delay. Time and again 
we got through just by a scratch. Success bred confi- 
dence; I distinctly remember feeling that water alone 
would not upset the boat ; that it would take a collision 
with a rock to do it. And each time we got through. 
Twice I almost had reason to reverse my impression of 
the power of water. First the stern rose up in front of 
me, as if squaring off at the tops of the cliffs, then de- 
scended, until it seemed to be trying to plumb the depths 
of the river. The waves, rolling over me, almost knocked 
me out of the boat, I lost my hold on the oars and grabbed 
the sides of the boat ; then, regaining the oars, I finished 
the run by pulling with the bow headed downstream, 
for the boat had "swapped ends" in the interval, and 
was heavy with about three barrels of water in the cock- 
pit. I bailed out with a grocery box, kept under the seat 
for that purpose. It had been growing quite cold, and 
Emery's indisposition — or what was really acute indi- 
gestion — had weakened him for the past two days, but 
he pluckily declined to stop. I was soaked with my last 
immersion and chilled with the wind, so concluded there 
was no use having him go through the same experience 
and I ran his boat while he made a picture. We were 
both ready to camp then, but there was no suitable place 



I40 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

and we had to push on to the next rapid. On looking 
it over we almost gave up our intention of running it. 
It was about a fourth of a mile long ; a mass of submerged 
rocks extended entirely across the river; the entire 
rapid seemed impossible. We finally concluded it might 
be run by shooting up, stern first, on a sloping rock near 
the shore, then return as the current recoiled and ran 
back, dividing on either side of the rock. The only 
clear channel was one about twelve feet wide, between 
this rock and the shore. A projecting shore above pre- 
vented a direct entrance to this channel. 

We threw logs in and watched their action. In each 
case they paused when within five or six feet of the top 
of the slope, then returned with the current, whirled 
back to the side and shot through close to the shore. 
We planned to go through as close together as possible. 
Emery was ready first, I held back in a protecting pool, 
waiting for him to get out of the way. He got his posi- 
tion, facing stern downstream, gave the slightest shove 
forward, and the released boat whizzed down for fifty 
feet and ran up on the rock. She paused a moment, as 
the water prepared to return. He gave two quick pulls, 
shooting back again, slightly to the right, until he struck 
the narrow channel, then reversed his course and went 
through stern first exactly as we had planned it. The 
square stern, buoyed up by the air-chamber, lifted the 
boat out of the resulting wave as he struck the bottom of 



A COMPANION VOYAGER I4I 

the descent. This much of the rapid had only taken a 
few seconds. 

I followed at once, but was not so fortunate. The 
Defiance was carried to the left side, where some water 
dropped over the side of the rock, instead of reversing. 
I pulled frantically, seeing visions, meanwhile, of the 
boat and myself being toppled off the side of the rock, 
into the boulders and waves below. My rowing had no 
effect whatever, but the boat was grabbed by the return- 
ing wave and shot, as if from a catapult, back and 
around to the right, through the sloping narrow channel, 
— my returning course describing a half circle. Instead 
of rising, the pointed bow cut down into the waves until 
the water was on my shoulders. Emery turned his 
head for an instant to see what success I was having, and 
his boat was thrown on to a rock close to the shore. I 
passed him and landed, just before going into the next 
rapid. I then went back and helped him off the rock, 
and he continued his course over the leaping waves. He 
broke a rowlock before he landed, and had to use the 
substitute we had hung beside it. 

We found a good spot for a camp just above the 
next rapid. Our tent was stretched in front of a large 
boulder. A large pile of driftwood gave us all the fuel 
needed, and we soon had a big fire going and our wet 
clothes steaming on the line. 



CHAPTER XIV 

A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS 

An hour or so after making our camp, we began to 
doubt the wisdom of our choice of a location, for a down- 
pour of rain threatened to send a stream of water under 
the tent. The stream was easily turned aside, while a 
door and numerous boards found in the drift pile, made 
a very good floor for the tent and lifted our sleeping 
bags off the wet sand. We had little trouble in this sec- 
tion to find sufficient driftwood for fires. The pile at 
this camp was enormous, and had evidently been gather- 
ing for years. Some of it, we could be sure, was recent, 
for a large pumpkin was found deposited in the drift 
pile twenty-five feet above the low-water stage on which 
we were travelling. This pumpkin, of course, could only 
have come down on the flood that had preceded us 

What a mixture of curios some of those drift piles 
were, and what a great stretch of country they repre- 
sented ! The rivers, unsatisfied with washing away the 
fertile soil of the upper country, had levied a greedy toll 

on the homes along their banks, as well. Almost every- 

142 



A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS 143 

thing that would float, belonging to a home, could be 
found in some of them. There were pieces of furniture 
and toilet articles, children's toys and harness, several 
smashed boats had been seen, and bloated cattle as well. 
A short distance above this camp we had found two cans 
of white paint, carefully placed on top of a big rock above 
the high-water mark, by some previous voyager.^ The 
boats were beginning to show the effect of hard usage, 
so we concluded to take the paint along. At another 
point, this same day, we found a corked bottle containing 
a faded note, undated, requesting the finder to write to 
a certain lady in Delta, Colorado. A note in my journal, 
beneath a record of this find, reads : "Aha ! A romance 
at last!" Judging by the appearance of the note it 
might have been thrown in many years before. Delta, 
we knew, was on the Gunnison River, a tributary of the 
Grand River. The bottle must have travelled over two 
hundred miles to reach this spot. 

A letter which I sent out later brought a prompt 
answer, with the information that this bottle and four 
others with similar notes were set adrift by the writer 
and four of her schoolmates, nearly two years before. 
An agreement was made that the one first receiving an 
answer was to treat the others to a dinner. Our find 
was the second, so this young lady was a guest instead 
of the host. 

^ Left by the Stone expedition. ] 



144 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

Emery took but little interest in our camp arrange- 
ments this evening, and went to bed as soon as it was 
possible for him to do so. He said little, but he was 
very weak, and I could tell from his drawn face that he 
was suffering, and knew that it was nothing but nervous 
energy that kept him at his work — that, and a promise 
which he ^had made to build a fire, within a stated time 
now less than two weeks away, in Bright Angel Creek 
Canyon, nearly three hundred miles below this camp, 
a signal to his wife and baby that he would be home 
the next day. I was worried about his condition and I 
feared a fever or pneumonia. For two or three days he 
had not been himself. It was one thing to battle with 
the river when well and strong; it would be decidedly 
different if one of us became seriously ill. 

For the first time in all our experiences together, 
where determination and skill seemed necessary to 
success, I had taken the lead during the past two 
days, feeling that my greater weight and strength, 
perhaps, would help me pull out of danger where 
he might fail. In two or three rapids I felt sure 
he did not have the strength to pull away from certain 
places that would smash the boats. After running the 
Defiance through these rapids I suggested to him that 
he would take a picture while I brought the Edith down. 
He would stay near the Defiance, ready to aid in case of 
emergency. After being once through a rapid I found it 
quite a simple matter to run the second boat, and the 



A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS 145 

knowledge that he would save me in case of an upset 
greatly lessened any danger that might have existed. 
He was too nervous to sleep, and asked me to take 
a last look at the boats before going to bed. They 
were pulled well up on the shore and securely tied, I 
found, so that it would take a flood to tear them loose. 
The rain, which had stopped for a while, began again as 
I rolled into the blankets ; the fire, fed with great cotton- 
wood logs, threw ghostly shadows on the cliffs which 
towered above us, and sputtered in the rain but refused 
to be drowned ; while the roar of rapids, Nos. 22 and 
23 combined, thundered and reverberated from wall to 
wall, and finally lulled us to sleep. 

The rain continued all night, but the weather cleared 
in the morning. Emery felt much the same as he had 
the day before, so we kept the same camp that day. We 
took some pictures, and made a few test developments, 
hanging the dark-room, or tent, inside the other tent for 
want of a better place to tie to. 

Sunday, October the 29th, we remained at the same 
place, and by evening were both greatly benefited by 
the rest. On Monday morning we packed up again, 
leaving only the moving-picture camera out, and pic- 
tured each other, alternately, as the boats made the 
plunge over the steep descent in rapid No. 23. Both 
boats disappeared from sight on two or three occasions 
in this rapid and emerged nearly filled with water. 



146 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

The section just passed is credited with the greatest 
descent on the rivers, a fall of 75 feet in f of a mile. 
This includes the three rapids : Nos. 21, 22, and 23. 

Proceeding on our way the canyon narrowed, going 
up almost sheer to a height of 2500 feet or over. Segre- 
gated spires, with castle-like tops, stood out from the 
upper walls. The rapids, or cataracts, compared well 
with those passed above, connected in some instances 
by swift-rushing water instead of the quiet pools which 
were usually found between the rapids. We ran ten 
rapids this day, but several of these which were counted 
as one were a series of two or three rapids, which might 
be one in high water. All had a shore on one side or the 
other, but caution was imperative when crossing in the 
swift water between the rapids. A mishap here meant 
destruction. We figured that we had travelled about 
ten miles for this day's run. 

The menacing walls continued to go higher with the 
next day's travel, until they reached a height of 2700 
feet. The left wall was so sheer that it almost 
seemed to overhang. The little vegetation which we 
had found on the lower slope gradually disappeared as 
the walls grew steeper, but a few scattered shrubs, sage- 
brush, and an occasional juniper grew on the rocky sides, 
or in one or two side canyons which entered from the 
south. These side canyons had the appearance of run- 
ning back for considerable distances, but we did not ex- 



A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS 1 47 

plore any of them and could tell very little about them 
from the river. 

After our noon lunch this day, in order to keep our 
minds from dwelling too much on the rather depressing 
surroundings, we proposed having a little sport. On two 
or three occasions we had made motion pictures from the 
\deck of the boats as we rowed in the quiet water; here 
we proposed taking a picture from the boats as we went 
over the rapids. The two boats were fastened stern 
to stern, so that the rowing would be done from the first 
boat. My brother sat on the bow behind with the 
motion-picture camera in front of him, holding it down 
with his chin, his legs clinging to the sides of the boat, 
with his left hand clutching at the hatch cover, and with 
his right hand free to turn the crank. In this way we 
passed over two small rapids. After that one experience 
we never tried it in a large rapid. As Smith had said a 
few days before the boat bucked like a broncho, and 
Emery had a great deal of difficulty to stay with the 
boat, to say nothing of taking a picture. Once or twice 
he was nearly unseated but pluckily hung on and kept 
turning away at the crank when it looked as if he and 
the camera would be dumped into the river. 

At one point in the lower end of Cataract Canyon we 
saw the name and date A. G. Turner, '07. Below this, 
close to the end of the canyon, were some ruins of cliff 
dwellings, and a ladder made by white men, placed 
against the walls below the ruins. 



148 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

On reaching a very deep, narrow canyon entering 
from the south, locally known as Dark Canyon, we knew 
that we were nearing the end of the rapids in Cataract 
Canyon. Dark Canyon extends a great distance back 
into the country, heading in the mountains we had seen 
to the south, when we climbed out at the junction of 
the Green and the Grand. Pine cones and other growths 
entirely foreign to the growth of the desert region were 
found near its mouth. A flood had recently filled the 
bottom of this narrow canyon to a depth of several 
feet, but the water had settled down again and left a 
little stream of clear water running through the boul- 
ders. The rapid at the end of this canyon was one 
of the worst of the entire series, and had been the 
scene of more than one fatality, we had been told. It 
had a very difficult approach and swung against the 
right wall, then the water was turned abruptly to the 
left by a great pile of fallen boulders. The cresting 
waves looked more like breakers of the ocean than 
anything we had seen on the river. 

We each had a good scare as we ran this rapid. 
Emery was completely hidden from my view, he was 
nearly strangled and blinded by the waves for a few 
seconds while struggling in the maelstrom ; the Edith 
was dropped directly on top of a rock in the middle 
of this rapid, then lifted on the next wave. I also 
had a thrilling experience but avoided the rock. In 



A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS 149 

the lower part of the rapid a rowlock pulled apart ; 
and to prevent the boat from turning sideways in the 
rapid, I threw up my knee, holding the oar against it 
for a lever until I was in quieter water, and could get 
the other rowlock in position. 

Separated from my brother in this instance, I had 
an opportunity to see the man and water conflict, with a 
perspective much as it would have appeared to a spec- 
tator happening on the scene. I was out of the heat of 
the battle. The excitement and indifference to danger 
that comes with a hand-to-hand grapple was gone. I 
heard the roar of the rapid ; a roar so often heard that 
we forgot it was there. I saw the gloom of the great 
gorge, and the towering, sinister shafts of rock, weakened 
with cracks, waiting for the moment that would send 
them crashing to the bottom. I saw the mad, wild water 
hurled at the curving wall. Jagged rocks, like the 
bared fangs of some dream-monster, appeared now and 
then in the leaping, tumbling waves. Then down 
toward the turmoil — dwarfed to nothingness by the 
magnitude of the walls — sped the tiny shell-like boat, 
running smoothly like a racing machine ! There was 
no rowing. The oar-blades were tipped high to avoid 
loss in the first comber ; then the boat was buried in 
the foam, and staggered through on the other side. It 
was buffeted here and there, now covered with a ton of 
water, now topping a ten-foot wave. Like a skilled 



150 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

boxer — quick of eye, and ready to seize any temporary 
advantage — the oarsman shot in his oars for two quick 
strokes, to straighten the boat with the current or dodge 
a threatening boulder; then covered by lifting his oars 
and ducking his head as a brown flood rolled over him. 
Time and again the manoeuvre was repeated : now here, 
now there. One would think the chances were about 
one to a hundred that he would get through. But by 
some sort of a system, undoubtedly aided, many times, by 
good luck, the man and his boat won to land. 

After running a small rapid, we came to another, in 
the centre of which was an island, — the last rapid in 
Cataract Canyon. While not as bad as the one 
at Dark Canyon it was rather difhcult, and at 
this point we found no shore on either side. The 
south side was rendered impassable by great boulders, 
much higher than the river level, which were scattered 
through the channel. The opposite channel began much 
like the rapid at Dark Canyon, sweeping under the wall 
until turned by a bend and many fallen rocks below the 
end of the island, then crossed with a line of cresting 
waves to the opposite side, where it was joined by the 
other stream, and the left wall was swept clean in like 
manner. We ran it by letting our boats drop into the 
stream, but pulled away from the wall and kept close to 
the island, then when its end was reached crossed the 
ridge of waves and pulled for the right-hand shore. In 



A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS 151 

such rapids as this we often found the line of waves in 
the swift-rushing centre to be several feet higher than the 
water along the shore. 

Then our thoughts reverted to Smith. What would 
he do when he came to this rapid .'* The only escape was 
a narrow sloping ledge on the right side, beginning close 
to the water some distance above the rapid, reaching a 
height of sixty or seventy feet above the water at the 
lower end, while a descent could be made to the river 
some distance below here. It would be possible for him to 
climb over this with his provisions, but the idea of taking 
his boat up there was entirely out of the question, and, 
poorly equipped as he was, an attempt to run it would 
surely end in disaster. The breaking of an oar, the loss 
of a rowlock, or the slightest knock of his rotten boat 
against a rock, and Smith's fate would be similar to those 
others whose bones lay buried in the sands. 

In the next four miles we had no more rapids, but had 
some fine travelling on a very swift river. It was getting 
dusk, but we pulled away, for just ahead of us was the 
end of Cataract Canyon. We camped by a large side 
canyon on the left named Mille Crag Bend, with a great 
number of jagged pinnacles gathered in a group at the 
top of the walls, which had dropped down to a height of 
about 1300 feet. We felt just a little proud of our achieve- 
ment, and believed we had established a record for Cata- 
ract Canyon, having run all rapids in four days' travelling, 
and come through in safety. 



152 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

We had one rapid to run the next morning at the 
beginning of Narrow Canyon, the only rapid in this nine- 
mile long canyon. The walls here at the beginning were 
twelve or thirteen hundred feet high, and tapered to the 
end, where they rise about four hundred feet above the 
Dirty Devil River. Narrow Canyon contains the longest 
straight stretch of river which we remembered having 
seen. When five miles from its mouth we could look 
through and see the snow-capped peak of Mt. Ellsworth 
beyond. This peak is one of the five that composes the 
Henry Mountains, which lay to the north of the river. 

Three hours' rowing brought us to the end. We 
paused a few minutes to make a picture or two of the 
Dirty Devil River, — or the Fremont River as it is now 
recorded on the maps. This stream, flowing from the 
north, was the exact opposite of the Bright Angel Creek, 
that beautiful stream we knew so well, two hundred and 
fifty miles below this point. The Dirty Devil was muddy 
and alkaline, while warm springs containing sulphur and 
other minerals added to its unpalatable taste. After 
tasting it we could well understand the feeling of the 
Jack Sumner, whose remark, after a similar trial, suggested 
its name to Major Powell. 

A short distance below this we saw a tent, and found 
it occupied by an old-timer named Kimball. Among 
other things he told us that he had a partner, named 
Turner, who had made the trip through the canyons 




Copi/righl by Kolb Bros. 
LOWER CATARACT CANYON. BOATS TANDEM. 




BEGINNING OF A NATURAL BRIDGE. GLEN CAN VON. 



A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS 1 53 

above, and arrived at this point in safety. This was the 
man whose name we had seen on the walls in Cataract 
Canyon. Less than two miles more brought us to the 
Hite ranch, and post-office. John Hite gave us a cordial 
reception. He had known of our coming from the news- 
papers ; besides, he had some mail for us. We spent the 
balance of the day in writing letters, and listening to 
Hite's interesting experiences of his many years of resi- 
dence in this secluded spot. Hite's home had been a 
haven for the sole survivor of two expeditions which had 
met with disaster in Cataract. In each case they were 
on the verge of starvation. Hite kept a record of all 
known parties who had attempted the passage through 
the canyons above. Less than half of these parties, 
excepting Galloway's several successful trips, succeeded 
in getting through Cataract Canyon without wrecking 
boats or losing lives. 

After passing the Fremont River the walls on the 
right or north side dropped down, leaving low, barren 
sandstone hills rolling away from the river, with a fringe 
of willows and shrubs beside the water, and with the 
usual sage-brush, prickly pear, cactus and bunch- 
grass on the higher ground. We had seen one broken- 
down log cabin, but this ranch was the only extensive 
piece of ground that was cultivated. Judging by the 
size of his stacks of alfalfa, Hite had evidently had 
a good season. The banks of the south side of the 



1 54 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

river were about two hundred feet high, composed of 
a conglomerate mass of clay and gravel. This spot 
has long been a ferry crossing, known far and wide 
as Dandy Crossing, the only outlet across the river 
for the towns of southeastern Utah, along the San Juan 
River. The entire 150 miles of Glen Canyon had once 
been the scene of extensive placer operations. The boom 
finally died, a few claims only proving profitable. 

One of these claims was held by Bert Loper, one of 
the three miners who had gone down the river in 1908. 
Loper never finished, as his boat — a steel boat, by the 
way — was punctured in a rapid above Dark Canyon 
but was soon repaired. His cameras and plates being 
lost, he sent from Hite out for new ones. His com- 
panions — Chas. Russell, and E. R. Monette — were 
to wait for him at Lee's Ferry, after having pros- 
pected through Glen Canyon. Some mistake was made 
about the delivery of the cameras and, as Hite post- 
office only had weekly communication with the railroad, 
a month elapsed before he finally secured them. Lee's 
Ferry had been discontinued as a post-office at that time, 
and, although he tried to get a letter in to them, it was 
never delivered. His disappointment can be imagined 
better than described, when he reached Lee's Ferry and 
found his companions had left just a few days previous. 
They naturally thought if he were coming at all he would 
have been there long before that, and they gave him up, 



A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS 155 

not knowing the cause of the delay. They left a letter, 
however, saying they would only go to the Bright Angel 
Trail, and the trip could be completed together on the 
following year. 

Loper spent many hard days working his boat, with 
his load of provisions, back against the current, and 
located a few miles below the Hite ranch. 



CHAPTER XV 

PLACER GOLD 

We passed Loper's claim after resuming our journey 
the next day. His workings were a one-man proposi- 
tion and very ingenious. We found a tunnel in the gravel 
a hundred feet above the river, and some distance back 
from the river bank. A track of light rails ran from 
the river bank to these workings ; the gravel and sand 
was loaded into a car, and hauled or pushed to the 
bank, then dumped into a chute, which sent it down to 
the river's edge. 

Loper was not at his work however, neither did we 
find him at his ranch, a mile down the river. He had 
a neat little place, with fruit trees and a garden, a horse 
or two, and some poultry. After resuming our rowing, 
when about a mile down the river, some one called to us 
from the shore, and Loper himself came running down 
to meet us. John Hite had requested us to stop and see 
his brother, Cass Hite, who owned a ranch and placer 
working nearly opposite where Loper had halted us; so 

iS6 



PLACER GOLD 1 57 

Loper crossed with us, as he was anxious to know of our 
passage through the canyons. 

We found, in Cass Hite, an interesting "old-timer," 
one who had followed the crowd of miners and pioneers, 
in the West, since the discovery of gold on the coast. He 
was the discoverer of the White Canyon Natural Bridges, 
of Southern Utah, located between this point and the 
San Juan River, and had been the first to open the ferry 
at Dandy Crossing. Hite had prospected Navajo Moun- 
tain, southwest of this point, in the early sixties, about 
the time of the Navajos' trouble with the United States 
army, under the leadership of Kit Carson, who dislodged 
them from their strongholds in the mountains after many 
others had failed. Hite's life was saved on more than 
one occasion by warnings from a friendly chief, or head 
man of the Western Navajos, known as HoskaninnI, 
who regarded him as a brother, and bestowed on him the 
name, Hosteen pes'lakl,^ meaning "Silver man." He is 
still known by this name, and refers to his pretty ranch 
as Tick a Bo, a Ute word for "friendly." Hite proudly 
quoted a poem written by Cy Warman about the theme 
of the Indian's regard for his white friend. Warman 
had followed the crowd in to this spot at the time of 
the boom, looking for local colour — human local colour, 
not the glitter In the sands. It was at John Hite's home 
where Warman had composed the one time popular song, 
" Sweet Marie." It would be safe to say that he brought 



158 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

his inspiration with him, for this was decidedly a man's 
country. We were told that it had only been visited by 
one woman in the past twelve years. Hite insisted on 
our remaining until the following morning, and we con- 
cluded that the rest would do us good. He loaded us up 
with watermelons, and with raisins, which he was curing 
at that time. We spent a pleasant afternoon under a 
shaded arbour, listening to his reminiscences, and munch- 
ing at the raisins. 

That evening Loper told us his story of their canyon 
expedition. He felt a little bitter about some newspaper 
reports that had been published concerning this expedi- 
tion, these reports giving the impression that his nerve 
had failed him, and that for this reason he had not con- 
tinued on the journey. We mollified his feelings some- 
what, when we told him that his companions were not 
responsible for these reports ; but rather, that short tele- 
graphic reports, sent out from the Grand Canyon, had been 
misconstrued by the papers ; and that this accounted for 
the stories which had appeared. His companions had 
remained at the Grand Canyon for two days following 
their arrival at Bright Angel Trail. They gave Loper 
credit, to our certain knowledge, of being the only one 
of the party who knew how to handle the boats in rough 
water when they began the trip, and had stated that he 
ran all the boats through certain rapids until they caught 
the knack. They could not know of his reasons for the 



PLACER GOLD 1 59 

delay, and at that time had no knowledge of his arrival 
at Lee's Ferry, after they had gone. Naturally they were 
very much puzzled over his non-appearance. 

It got quite cold that night, and we were glad to have 
the shelter of Kite's hospitable roof. In our trip down 
the river to this point we had seemed to keep even with 
the first cold weather. In all places where it was open, 
we would usually find a little ice accompanied by frost 
in the mornings, or if no ice had frozen the grass would 
be wet with dew. In the canyons there was little or no 
ice, and the air was quite dry. Naturally we preferred 
the canyons if we had a choice of camps. 

Loper looked as though he would like to accompany 
us as we pulled away the next morning, after having 
landed him on the south side of the stream. We, at 
least, had full confidence in his nerve to tackle the lower 
Colorado, after his record in Cataract Canyon. The five 
scattered peaks of the Henry Mountains were now to 
the north-northwest of us, rugged and snow-capped, 
supreme in their majesty above this desolate region. 

Signs of an ancient Indian race were plentiful in this 
section. There were several small cliff dwellings, walled 
up in ledges in the rocks, a hundred feet or so above a 
low flat which banked the river. At another place there 
were hundreds of carvings on a similar wall which over- 
hung a little. Drawings of mountain-sheep were 
plentiful ; there was one representing a human figure 



l6o THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

with a bow and arrow, and with a sheep standing on the 
arrow — their way of telling that he got the sheep, no 
doubt. There were masked figures engaged in a dance, 
not unlike some of the Hopi dances of to-day, as they 
picture them. There were geometrical figures, and 
designs of many varieties. A small rock building half 
covered with sand and the accumulations of many years 
stood at the base of the cliff; and quantities of broken 
pottery were scattered about the ruin. Farther down 
the river a pathway was worn into the sandstone where 
countless bare and moccasined feet had toiled, and 
climbed over the sloping wall to the mesa above. The 
ruins in this section were not extensive, like those found 
in the tributary canyons of the San Juan River, for in- 
stance, not a very great distance from here. Possibly 
this people stopped here as they travelled back and forth, 
trading with their cousins to the north ; or the dwellings 
may have been built by the scattered members of the 
tribe, when their strongholds were assailed by the more 
warlike tribes that crowded in on them from all sides. 
What a story these cliffs could tell ! What a romance 
they could narrate of various tribes, as distinct from 
each other as the nations of Europe, crowding each 
other; and at the last of this inoffensive race, coming 
from the far south, it may be ; driven from pillar to post, 
making their last stand in this desert land ; to perish of 
pestilence, or to be almost exterminated by the blood- 



PLACER GOLD l6i 

thirsty tribes that surrounded them — then again, when 
the tide changed, and a new type of invader travelled 
from the east, pushing ever to the west, conquering all 
before them ! But like the sphinx, the cliffs are silent 
and voiceless as the hillocks and sand-dunes along the 
Nile, that other desert stream, with a history no more 
ancient and momentous than this. 

That night we camped opposite the ruins of a dredge, 
sunk in the low water at the edge of the river. This 
dredge had once represented the outlay of a great deal of 
money. It is conceded by nearly all experts that the 
sands of these rivers contain gold, but it is of such 
a fine grain — what is known as flour gold — and the 
expense of saving it is so great, that it has not paid 
when operated on such a large scale. A few placers in 
Glen Canyon have paid individual operators, some of 
these claims being in gravel deposits from six hundred to 
eight hundred feet above the present level of the river. 

On the following day we again entered deep canyon ; 
sheer for several hundred feet, creamy white above, with 
a dark red colour in the lower sandstone walls. That 
afternoon we passed a small muddy stream flowing from 
the north, in a narrow, rock-walled canyon. This was 
the Escalante River, a stream rising far to the north, 
named for one of the Spanish priests who had travelled 
this country, both to the north and the south of this 
point, as early as the year 1776, about the time when 



1 62 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

the New England colonists were in the midst of their 
struggle with the mother country. 

Just below the Escalante River, the canyon turned 
almost directly south, continuing in this general direc- 
tion for several miles. A glimpse or two was had of the top 
of a tree-covered snow-capped peak directly ahead of us, 
or a little to the southwest. This could be none other 
than Navajo Mountain, a peak we could see from the 
Grand Canyon, and had often talked of climbing, but 
debated if we could spare the time, now that we were 
close to it. 

In all this run through Glen Canyon we had a good 
current, but only one place resembling a rapid. Here, 
below the Escalante, it was very quiet, and hard pulling 
was necessary to make any headway. We were anxious 
to reach the San Juan River that evening, but the days 
were growing short, and we were still many miles away 
when it began to grow dusk ; so we kept a lookout for 
a suitable camp. The same conditions that had bothered 
us on one or two previous occasions were found here; 
slippery, muddy banks, and quicksand, together with an 
absence of firewood. We had learned before this to 
expect these conditions where the water was not swift. 
The slower stream had a chance to deposit its silt, and 
if the high water had been very quiet, we could expect to 
find it soft, or boggy. In the canyons containing swift 
water and rapids we seldom found mud, but found a 



PLACER GOLD I 63 

clean, firm sand, instead. Here in Glen Canyon we had 
plenty of mud, for the river had been falling the last few 
days. Time and again we inspected seemingly favourable 
places, only to be disappointed. The willows and dense 
shrubbery came down close to the river; the mud was 
black, deep, and sticky; all driftwood had gone out on 
the last flood. Meanwhile a glorious full moon had 
risen, spreading a soft, weird light over the canyon 
walls and the river; so that we now had a light much 
better than the dusk of half an hour previous, our course 
being almost due south. Finally, becoming discouraged, 
we decided to pull for the San Juan River, feeling sure 
that we would find a sand-bar there. It was late when 
we reached it, and instead of a sand-bar we found a delta 
of bottomless mud. We had drifted past the point where 
the rivers joined, before noticing that the stream turned 
directly to the west, with canyon walls two or three hun- 
dred feet high, and no moonlight entered there. In- 
stead, it was black as a dungeon. From down in that 
darkness there came a muffled roar, reverberating against 
the walls, and sounding decidedly like a rapid. There 
was not a minute to lose. We pulled, and pulled hard — 
for the stream was now quite swift close to the right 
shore, and a sheer bank of earth about ten feet high 
made it difficult to land. Jumping into the mud at the 
edge of the water, we tied the boats to some bushes, 
then tore down the bank and climbed out on a dry, 



164 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

sandy point of land. At the end or sharp turn of the 
sheer wall we found a fair camp, with driftwood enough 
for that night. Emery, weak from his former illness 
and the long day's run, went to bed as soon as we had 
eaten a light supper. I looked after the cooking that 
evening, making some baking-powder bread, — other- 
wise known as a flapjack, — along with other arrange- 
ments for the next day ; but I fear my efforts as a cook 
always resulted rather poorly. 

We had breakfast at an early hour the next morning, 
and were ready for the boats at 7.15, the earliest start 
to our record. Our rapid of the night before proved to 
be a false alarm, being nothing more than the breaking 
of swift water as it swept the banks of rocks at the turn. 
It was quite different from what we had pictured in our 
minds. 

We had long looked forward to this day. Navajo 
Mountain, with bare, jagged sides and tree-covered dome, 
was located just a few miles below this camp. It was a 
sandstone mountain peak, towering 7000 feet above the 
river, the steep slope beginning some five or six miles 
back from the stream. The base on which it rested was 
of sandstone, rounded and gullied into curious forms, a 
warm red and orange colour predominating. The north 
side, facing the river, was steep of slope, covered with 
the fragments of crumbled cliffs and with soft cream- 
tinted pinnacles rising from its slope. The south side, 



PLACER GOLD 165 

we had reason to believe, was tree-covered from top to 
bottom ; the north side held only a few scattered cedar 
and pinon. We had often seen the hazy blue dome from 
the Grand Canyon, one hundred and twenty miles away, 
and while it was fifty miles farther by the river, we felt 
as if we were entered on the home stretch ; as if we were 
in a country with which we were somewhat familiar. 

The Colorado and the San Juan rivers form the 
northern boundary of the Navajo Indian Reservation, 
comprising a tract of land as large as many Eastern states, 
extending over a hundred miles, both east and west 
from this point. Embodied in this reservation, and 
directly opposite our camp, was a small section of rugged 
land set aside for some Utes, who had friendly dealings, 
and who had intermarried with the Navajo. But if we 
expected to find the Navajo, or Utes on the shore, ready 
to greet us, we were doomed to disappointment. 

We explored a few side canyons this morning, 
hoping to find a spot where some of Major Powell's 
party — particularly those men who were afterwards 
killed by the Indians — had chiselled their names, which 
record we were told was to be found near the San Juan, 
but on which side we were not sure. While in one of 
these canyons, or what was really nothing more than a 
crooked overhanging slit in the rocks, containing a 
small stream, Emery found himself in some soft 
quicksand, plunged instantly above his knees, and 



1 66 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

sinking rapidly. He would have had a difficult time in 
getting out of this quicksand without help, for a smooth 
rock wall was on one side, the other bank of the stream 
was sheer above him for a few feet, and there was nothing 
solid which he could reach. We had seen a great deal of 
quicksand before this, but nothing of this treacherous 
nature. Usually we could walk quickly over these sands, 
without any danger of being held in them, or if caught — 
while lifting on a boat for instance — had no difficulty in 
getting out. When once out of this canyon we gave up 
our search for the carved record. 

But it was not the hope of shortening our homeward 
run, or the prospect of meeting Indians on the shores, 
or of finding historical records, even, that caused us to 
make this early start. It was the knowledge that the 
wonderful Rainbow Natural Bridge, recently discovered, 
and only visited by three parties of whites, lay hidden 
in one of the side canyons that ran from the north slope 
of Navajo Mountain. No one had gone into it from the 
river, but we were told it could be done. We hoped 
to find this bridge. 

The current was swift, and we travelled fast, in spite 
of a stiff wind which blew up the stream, getting a very 
good view of the mountain from the river a few miles 
below our camp, and another view of the extreme top, 
a short distance below this place, not over six miles from 
the San Juan. We had directions describing the canyon 



PLACER GOLD 1 67 

in which the bridge was located, our informant surmising 
that it was thirty miles below the San Juan. We thought 
it must be less than that, for the river was very direct 
at this place, and a person travelling over the extremely 
rough country which surrounded this side of the mountain 
slope would naturally have to travel much farther, so 
we began to look for it about twelve miles below camp. 
But mile after mile went by without any sign of the 
landmarks that would tell us we were at the "Bridge 
Canyon." Then the river, which had circled the northern 
side of the peak, turned directly away from it, and we 
knew that we had missed the bridge. At no point on 
the trip had we met with a disappointment to equal that ; 
even the loss of our moving-picture film, after our spill 
in Lodore, was small when compared with it. 

On looking back over the lay of the land, we felt 
sure that the bridge was at one of the two places, where 
we had seen the top of the mountain from the river. 
To go back against the current would take at least three 
days. Our provisions were limited in quantity and 
would not permit it; the canyon had deepened, and a 
second bench of sheer cliffs rose above the plateau, 
making it impossible to climb out : so we concluded to 
make the best of it, and pulled down the stream, trying 
to put as many miles as possible between ourselves and 
our great disappointment. This afternoon we passed 
from Utah into Arizona. For the remainder of the trip 



1 68 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

we would have Arizona on one side of the river at least. 
We had much the same difficulty this evening as we had 
had the night before in finding a camp. Judging by the 
evidence along the shore, the high water which came down 
the San Juan had been a torrent, much greater than 
the flood on the Colorado and its upper tributaries. 




RAINBOW NATURAL BRIDGE BETWEEN THE COLORADO RI\ ER AND NAVAJO 
MOUNTAIN. HEIGHT THREE HUNDRED AND EIGHT FEET; SPAN TWO HUNDRED 
AND SE\ENTY FEET. NOTE FIGURE ON TOP. PHOTO BY KOLB BROTHERS, SEP- 
TEMBER, 1913. 



CHAPTER XVr 

A WARNING 

We camped that night at the Ute Ford, or the Grossing 
of the Fathers ; a noted landmark of bygone days, when 
Escalante (in 1776) and others later followed the inter- 
tribal trails across these unfriendly lands. Later maraud- 
ing Navajo used this trail, crossing the canyon to the 
north side, raiding the scattered Mormon settlements, 
bringing their stolen horses, and even sheep, down this 
canyon trail. Then they drove them across on a frozen 
river, and escaped with them to their mountain fastness. 
The Mormons finally tired of these predatory visits, and 
shut off all further loss from that source by blasting oflF a 
great ledge at the north end of the trail. This ruined the 
trail beyond all hope of repair, and there is no travel 
at present over the old Ute Crossing. The fording of 
the river on horseback was effected by dropping down to 
the river through a narrow side canyon, and crossing to 
the centre on a shoal, then following a centre shoal down 

for quite a distance, and completing the crossing at a low 

169 



I/O THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

point on the opposite side. This was only possible at 
the very lowest stage of water. 

The morning following our arrival here, we walked 
about a mile up the gravelly slope on the south side, to 
see if we could locate the pass by which the trail dropped 
down over these 3000-foot walls. The canyon had 
changed in appearance after leaving the mountain, and 
now we had a canyon ; smaller, but not unlike the Grand 
Canyon in appearance, with an inner plateau, and a 
narrow canyon at the river, while the walls on top were 
several miles apart, and towering peaks or buttes rose 
from the plateau, reaching a height almost equal to the 
walls themselves. The upper walls were cream-tinted 
or white sandstone, the lower formation was a warm 
red sandstone. We could not discover the pass without 
a long walk to the base of the upper cliffs, so returned 
to the boats. 

About this time we heard shots, seeming to come from 
some point down the river, and on the north side. Later 
a dull hollow sound was heard like pounding on a great 
bass drum. We could not imagine what it was, but knew 
that it must be a great distance away. We had noticed 
instances before this, where these smooth, narrow canyons 
had a great magnifying effect on noises. In the section 
above the San Juan, where the upper walls overhung a little, 
a loud call would roll along for minutes before it finally 
died. A shot from a revolver sounded as if the cliffs 
were falling. 



A WARNING 171 

Our run this morning was delightful. The current 
was the best on which we had travelled. The channel 
swung from side to side, in great half circles, with most of 
the water thrown against the outside bank, or wall, with 
a five- or six-mile an hour current close to the wall. We 
took advantage of all this current, hugging the wall, 
with the stern almost touching, and with the bow pointed 
out so we would not run into the walls or scrape our oars. 
Then, when it seemed as if our necks were about to be 
permanently dislocated, from looking over one shoulder, 
the river would reverse its curve, the channel would cross 
to the other side, and we would give that side of our necks 
a rest. Once in a great while I would bump a rock, and 
would look around sheepishly, to see if my brother had 
seen me do it. I usually found him with a big grin on 
his face, if he happened to be ahead of me. 

We rowed about twenty miles down the river before 
we learned what had caused the noises heard in the 
morning. On rounding a turn we saw the strange spec- 
tacle of fifteen or twenty men at work on the half-con- 
structed hull of a flat-bottomed steamboat, over sixty 
feet in length. This boat was on the bank quite a dis- 
tance above the water, with the perpendicular walls of a 
crooked side canyon rising above it. It was a strange 
sight, here in this out-of-the-way corner of the world. 
Some men with heavy sledges were under the boat, driving 
large spikes into the planking. This was the noise we 
had heard that morning. 



172 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

The blasting, we learned later, was at some coal 
mines, several miles up this little canyon, which bore 
the name of Warm Creek Canyon. A road led down 
through the canyon, making It possible to haul the lumber 
for the boat, clear to the river's edge. The nearest rail- 
road was close to two hundred miles from this place, 
quite a haul considering the ruggedness of the country. 
The material for the boat had been shipped from San 
Francisco, all cut, ready to put together. The vessel 
was to be used to carry coal down the river, to a dredge 
that had recently been installed at Lee's Ferry. 

The dinner gong had just sounded when we landed, 
and we were taken along with the crowd. There were 
some old acquaintances in this group of men, we found, 
from Flagstaff, Arizona. These men had received a 
Flagstaff paper which had published a short note we had 
sent from Green River, Utah. They had added a com- 
ment that no doubt this would be the last message we 
would have an opportunity to send out. Very cheering 
for Emery's wife, no doubt. Fortunately she shared our 
enthusiasm, and If she felt any apprehension her few 
letters failed to show it. 

We resumed our rowing at once after dinner, for we 
wished to reach Lee's Ferry, twenty-five miles distant, 
that evening. We had a good current, and soon left our 
friends behind us. We pulled with a will, and mile after 
mile was covered in record time, for our heavy boats. 



A WARNING 173 

The walls continued to get higher as we neared our 
goal, going up sheer close to the river. We judged the 
greatest of these walls to be about eleven hundred feet 
high. After four hours of steady pulling we began to 
weary, for ours were no light loads to propel ; but we were 
spurred to renewed effort by hearing the sounds of an 
engine in the distance. On rounding a turn we saw the 
end of Glen Canyon ahead of us, marked by a breaking 
down of the walls, and a chaotic mixture of dikes of rock, 
and slides of brilliantly coloured shales, broken and tilted 
in every direction. Just below this, close to a ferry, we 
saw the dredge on the right side of the river. We were 
quite close to the dredge before we were seen. Some 
men paused at their work to watch us as we neared them, 
one man calling to those behind him, "There come the 
brothers ! " 

A whistle blew announcing the end of their day's labour, 
and of ours as well, as it happened. There was some 
cheering and waving of hats. One who seemed to be the 
foreman asked us to tie up to a float which served as a 
landing for three motor boats, and a number of skiffs. 
A loudly beaten triangle of steel announced that the 
evening meal was ready at a stone building not far from the 
dredge. We were soon seated at a long table with a lot 
of others as hungry as we, partaking of a well-cooked 
and substantial meal. We made arrangements to take 
a few meals here, as we wished to overhaul our outfits 
before resuming our journey. 



174 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

The meal ended, we inquired for the post-office, and 
were directed to a ranch building across the Paria River, 
a small stream which entered from the north, not unlike 
the Fremont River in size and appearance. Picking 
our way in the darkness, on boulders and planks which 
served as a crossing, we soon reached the building, set 
back from the river in the centre of the ranch. A 
man named Johnson, with his family, had charge of the 
ranch and post-office as well. Mail is brought by carrier 
from the south, a cross-country trip of i6o miles, 
through the Hopi and Navajo Indian Reservations. 

Johnson informed us that an old-time friend named 
Dave Rust had waited here three or four days, hoping 
to see us arrive, but business matters had forced him to 
leave just the day before. We were very sorry to have 
missed him. Rust lived in the little Mormon town of 
Kanab, Utah, eighty miles north of the Grand Canyon 
opposite our home. In addition to being a cattle man 
and rancher, he had superintended the construction of a 
cable crossing, or tramway, over the Colorado River, 
beside the mouth of Bright Angel Creek, not many miles 
from our home. He also maintains a cozy camp at this 
place, for the accommodation of tourists and hunting par- 
ties, which he conducts up Bright Angel Creek and 
into the Kaibab Forest. It was while returning from 
such a hunting trip that we first met Rust. Many are 
the trips we have taken with him since then, Emery, with 



A WARNING 175 

his wife and the baby, even, making the "crossing" 
and the eighty-mile horseback ride to his home in Kanab, 
while I had continued on through to Salt Lake City. 
Rust had been the first to tell us of Galloway and his 
boating methods ; and had given us a practical demon- 
stration on the river. Naturally there was no one we 
would have been more pleased to see at that place, 
than Rust. 

In our mail we found a letter from him, stating, among 
other things, that he had camped the night before on 
the plateau, a few hundred feet above a certain big rapid, 
well known through this section as the Soap Creek Rapid. 
This locality is credited with being the scene of the first 
fatality which overtook the Brown-Stanton expedition ; 
Brown being upset and drowned in the next rapid which 
followed, after having portaged the Soap Creek Rapid. 
Rust wrote also that there was a shore along the rapid, 
so there would be no difficulty in making the portage ; and 
concluded by saying that he had a very impressive dream 
about us that night, the second of its kind since we had 
started on our journey. 

We understood from this that he had certain mis- 
givings about this rapid, and took his dream to be a sort 
of a warning. Rust should have known us better. 
With all the perversity of human nature that letter made 
me want to run that rapid if it were possible. Why 
not run the rapid, and get a moving picture as it was being 



176 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

done. Then we could show Rust how well we had learned 
our lesson ! So I thought as we returned to the buildings 
near the dredge, but said nothing of what was in my mind 
to Emery, making the mental reservation that I would 
see the rapid first and decide afterwards. 

The foreman of the placer mines called us into his 
office that evening, and suggested that it might be a good 
plan to go over our boats thoroughly before we left, 
and offered us the privilege of using their workshop, 
with all its conveniences, for any needed repairs. He 
also let us have a room in one of the buildings for our 
photographic work. 

This foreman mourned the loss of a friend who had 
recently been drowned at the ferry. It seemed that the 
floods which had preceded us, especially that part which 
came down the San Juan River, had been something 
tremendous, rising 45 feet at the ferry, where the river 
was 400 feet wide ; and rising much higher in the narrow 
portions of Glen Canyon. Great masses of driftwood 
had floated down, looking almost like a continuous raft. 
When the river had subsided somewhat, an attempt 
was made to cross with the ferry. The foreman and 
his friend, with two others, and a team of horses hitched 
to a wagon, were on the ferry. When in midstream, 
it overturned in the swollen current. Three of the men 
escaped, the other man and the horses were drowned. 

A careful search had been made for the body to a 



A WARNING 177 

point a few miles down the river, then the canyon 
closed in and they could go no farther. The body was 
never recovered. It is seldom that the Colorado River 
gives up its dead. The heavy sands collect in the clothes, 
and a body sinks much quicker than in ordinary water. 
Any object lodged on the bottom is soon covered with a 
sand-bar. The foreman knew this, of course ; yet he wished 
us to keep a lookout for the body, which might, by some 
chance, have caught on the shore, when the water re- 
ceded. This was as little as any one would do, and we 
gave him our promise to keep a careful watch. 



CHAPTER XVII 

A NIGHT OF THRILLS 

We declined the offer of a roof that night, preferring 
to sleep in the open here, for the evening was quite warm. 
We went to work the next morning when the whistle 
sounded at the dredge. Beyond caulking a few leaks 
in the boats, little was done with them. The tin re- 
ceptacles holding our photographic plates and films were 
carefully coated with a covering of melted paraffine ; for 
almost anything might happen, in the one hundred miles 
of rapid water that separated us from our home. 

Lee's Ferry was an interesting place, both for its old 
and its new associations. This had long been the home 
of John D. Lee, well known for the part he took in the 
Mountain Meadow Massacre, and for which he afterwards 
paid the death penalty. Here Lee had lived for many 
years, making few visits to the small settlements to the 
north, but on one of these visits he was captured. There 
were six or seven other buildings near the large stone build- 
ing where we took our meals, so arranged that they made 

a short street, the upper row being built against a cliff 

178 



A NIGHT OF THRILLS 1 79 

of rock and shale, the other row being placed halfway 
between this row and the river. These buildings were 
all of rock, of which there was no lack, plastered with 
adobe, or mud. One, we were told, had been Lee's 
stronghold. It was a square building, with a few very 
small windows, and with loopholes in the sides. At 
the time of our visit it was occupied by two men ; one, 
a young Englishman, recently arrived from South Africa 
— a remittance-man, in search of novelty — the other 
a grizzled forty-niner. Much could be written about 
this interesting group of men, and their alluring employ- 
ment. There were some who had followed this work 
through all the camps of the West — to Colorado, to 
California, and to distant Alaska as well, they had 
journeyed ; but it is doubtful if, in all their wanderings, 
they had seen any camp more strangely located than this, 
hemmed in with canyon walls. To us, their dredge and 
the steamboat up the river seemed as if they had been 
taken from the pages of some romance, or bit of fiction, 
and placed before us for our entertainment. 

There were other men as well, just as interesting 
in their way as the "old-timers," the sons of some of the 
owners of this proposition, — clean-cut young fellows, — 
working side by side with the veterans, as enthusiastic 
as if on their college campus. 

One feature about the dredge interested us greatly. 
This was a tube, or sucker, held suspended by a derrick 



l80 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM, WYOMING TO MEXICO 

above a float, and operated by compressed air. This 
tube was dropped into the sand at the bottom of the river, 
and would eat its way into it, bringing up rocks the size 
of one's fist, along with the gravel and sand. In a 
few hours a hole, ten or fifteen feet in depth and ten 
feet in diameter, would be excavated. Then the tube 
was raised, the float was moved, and the work started 
again. The coarse sand and gravel, carried by a stream 
of water, was returned to the river, after passing over 
the riffles ; the screenings which remained passed over 
square metal plates — looking like sheets of tin — covered 
with quicksilver. These plates were cleaned with a 
rubber window-cleaner, and the entire residue was 
saved in a heavy metal pot, ready for the chemist. 

One day only was needed for our work, and by evening 
we were ready for the next plunge. We might have 
enjoyed a longer stay with these men, but stronger than 
this desire was our anxiety to reach our home, separated 
from us by a hundred miles of river, no extended part 
of the distance being entirely free from rapids. We 
had written to the Grand Canyon, bidding them look 
for our signal fire in Bright Angel Creek Canyon, in from 
seven to ten days, and planned to leave on the following 
morning. Nothing held us now except the hope that the 
mail, which was due that evening, might bring us a letter, 
although that was doubtful, for we were nearly a week 
ahead of our schedule as laid out at Green River, Utah. 



A NIGHT OF THRILLS l8l 

As we had anticipated, there was no mail for us, so 
we turned to inspect the mail carrier. He was a splendid 
specimen of the Navajo Indian, — a wrestler of note 
among his people, we were told, — large and muscular, 
and with a peculiar springy, slouchy walk that gave one 
the impression of great reserve strength. He had ridden 
that day from Tuba, an agency on their reservation, 
about seventy miles distant. This was the first sign 
of an Indian that we had seen in this section, although 
we had been travelling along the northern boundary of 
their reservation since leaving the mouth of the San 
Juan. These Indians have no use for the river, being 
children of the desert, rather than of the water. Beyond 
an occasional crossing and swimming their horses at 
easy fords, they make no attempt at its navigation, even 
in the quiet water of Glen Canyon. 

Some of the men showed this Indian our boats, and 
told him of our journey. He smiled, and shrugged 
his massive shoulders as much as to say, he "would 
believe it when he saw it." He had an opportunity to 
see us start, at least, on the following morning. 

Before leaving, we climbed a 300-foot mound on the 
left bank of the Paria River, directly opposite the Lee 
ranch. This mound is known as Lee's Lookout. Whether 
used by Lee or not, it had certainly served that purpose 
at some time. A circular wall of rock was built on top 
of the mound, and commanded an excellent view of all 



1 82 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

the approaches to the junction of the rivers. This spot 
is of particular interest to the geologist, for a great fault, 
indicated by the Vermilion Cliffs, marks the division 
between Glen Canyon and Marble Canyon. This line 
of cliffs extends to the south for many miles across the 
Painted Desert, and north into Utah for even a greater 
distance, varying in height from two hundred feet at 
the southern end to as many thousand feet in some places 
to the north. Looking to the west, we could see that here 
was another of those sloping uplifts of rock, with the 
river cutting down, increasing the depth of the canyon 
with every mile. 

We had now descended about 2900 feet since leaving 
Green River City, Wyoming, not a very great fall for 
the distance travelled if an average is taken, but a con- 
siderable portion of the distance was on quiet water, as 
we have noted, with a fall of a foot or two to the mile, 
and with alternate sections only containing bad water. 
We were still at an elevation of 3170 feet above the sea- 
level, and in the 283 miles of canyon ahead of us — 
Marble Canyon and the Grand Canyon combined — the 
river descends 2330 feet, almost a continuous series of 
rapids from this point to the end of the Grand Canyon. 

After a hasty survey from our vantage point, we 
returned to the river and prepared to embark. As we 
left the dredge, the work was closed down for a few 
minutes, and the entire crowd of men, about forty in 



A NIGHT OF THRILLS 1 83 

number, stood on an elevation to watch us run the first 
rapid. The Indian had crossed to the south side of the 
river to feed his horse and caught a glimpse of us as we 
went past him. Running pell-mell down to his boat, 
he crossed the river and joined the group on the bank. 
About this time we were in the grip of the first rapid, a 
long splashy one, with no danger whatever, but large 
enough to keep us busy until we had passed from view. 

A few miles below this, after running a pair of small 
rapids, we reached a larger one, known as the Badger 
Creek Rapid, with a twenty-foot drop in the first 250 
feet, succeeded by a hundred yards of violent water. 
Emery had a little difficulty in this rapid, when his boat 
touched a rock which turned the boat sideways in the 
current, and he was nearly overturned in the heavy waves 
which followed. As it was, we were both drenched. 

About the middle of the afternoon, twelve miles below 
Lee's Ferry, we reached the Soap Creek Rapid of which 
we had heard so much. The rapid had a fall of twenty- 
five feet, and was a quarter of a mile long. Most of the 
fall occurred in the first fifty yards. The river had 
narrowed down until it was less than two hundred feet 
wide at the beginning of the descent. Many rocks were 
scattered all through the upper end, especially at the 
first drop. On the very brink or edge of the first fall, 
there was a submerged rock in the centre of the channel, 
making an eight-foot fall over the rock. A violent 



1 84 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

current, deflected from the left shore, shot into this 
centre and added to the confusion. Twelve-foot waves, 
from the conflicting currents, played leap-frog, jumping 
over or through each other alternately. Clearly there 
was no channel on that side. On the right or north side 
of the stream it looked more feasible, as the water shot 
down a sloping chute over a hundred feet before meeting 
with an obstruction. This came in the shape of two 
rocks, one about thirty feet below the other. To run the 
rapid this first rock would have to be passed before 
any attempt could be made to pull away from the 
second rock, which was quite close to the shore. 
Once past that there was a clear channel to the end of 
the rapid, if the centre, which contained many rocks, 
was avoided. Below the rapid was the usual whirlpool, 
then a smaller rapid, running under the left wall. This 
second rapid was the one that had been so fatal for 
Brown. The Soap Creek rapid in many ways was not 
as bad as some we had gone over in Cataract Canyon, 
but there were so many complications that we hesitated 
a long time before coming to a decision that we would 
make an attempt with one boat, depending on our good 
luck which had brought us through so many times, as 
much as we depended on our handling of the boat. 

It was planned that I should make the first attempt, 
while Emery remained with the motion-picture camera 
just below the rock that we most feared, with the agree- 



A NIGHT OF THRILLS 1 85 

ment that he was to get a picture of the upset if one 
occurred, then run to the lower end of the rapid with a 
rope and a life-preserver. 

After adjusting life-preservers I returned to my boat 
and was soon on the smooth water above the rapid, hold- 
ing my boat to prevent her from being swept over the 
rock in the centre, jockeying for the proper position before 
I would allow her to be carried into the current. Once 
in, it seemed but an instant until I was past the first 
rock, and almost on top of the second. I was pulling 
with every ounce of strength, and was almost clear of 
the rock when the stern touched it gently. I had no 
idea the boat would overturn, but thought she would 
swing around the rock, heading bow first into the stream, 
as had been done before on several occasions. Instead 
of this she was thrown on her side with the bottom of the 
boat held against the rock while I found myself thrown 
out of the boat, but hanging to the gunwale. Then the 
boat swung around and instantly turned upright while I 
scrambled back into the cockpit. Looking over my 
shoulder, when I had things well in hand again, I saw my 
brother was still at the camera, white as a sheet, but 
turning at the crank as if our entire safety depended on it. 
After I landed the water-filled boat, however, he confessed 
to me that he had no idea whether he had caught the upset 
or not, as he may have resumed the work when he saw 
that I was safe. 



1 86 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

Then we went to work to find out what damage 
was done. First we found that the case, which was 
supposed to be waterproof, had a half-inch of water 
inside, but fortunately none of our films were wet. Some 
plates which we had just exposed and which were still 
in the holders were soaked. The cameras also had 
suflPered. We hurriedly wiped off the surplus water 
and piled these things on the shore, then emptied the 
boat of a few barrels of water. 

This one experience, I suppose, should have been 
enough for me with that rapid, but I foolishly insisted on 
making another trial at it with the Edith, for I felt sure I 
could make it if I only had another chance, and the fact 
that Emery had the empty boat at the end of the rapid 
and could rescue me if an upset occurred greatly lessened 
the danger. The idea of making a portage, with the loss 
of nearly a day, did not appeal to me. 

Emery agreed to this reluctantly, and advised waiting 
until morning, for it was growing dusk, but with the re- 
mark " I will sleep better with both boats tied at the 
lower end of the rapid," I returned to the Edith. To 
make a long story short I missed my channel, and was 
carried over the rock in the centre of the stream. The 
Edith had bravely mounted the first wave, and was 
climbing the second comber, standing almost on end, it 
seemed to me, when the wave crested over the stern, 
while the current shooting it from the side struck the 



A NIGHT OF THRILLS 1 87 

submerged bow and she fell back in the water upside 
down. It was all done so quickly, I hardly knew what 
had occurred, but found myself in the water, whirling 
this way and that, holding to the right oar with a death- 
grip. I wondered if the strings would hold, and felt a 
great relief when the oar stopped slipping down, — as 
the blade reached the ring. It was the work of a second 
to climb the oar, and I found I was under the cockpit. 
Securing a firm hold on the gunwale, which had helped 
us so often, I got on the outside of the boat, thinking I 
might climb on top. About that time one of the largest 
waves broke over me, knocking me on the side of the 
head as if with a solid object, nearly tearing me from 
the boat. After that I kept as close to the boat as 
possible, paddling with my feet to keep them clear of 
rocks. Then the suction of the boat caught them and 
dragged them under, and for the rest of the rapid I had 
all I could do to hang to the boat. As the rapid dwindled 
I began to look for Emery, but was unable to see him, 
for it was now growing quite dark, but I could see a fire 
on shore that he had built. I tried to call but was 
strangled with the breaking waves ; my voice was drowned 
in the roar of the rapid. One of the life-preservers was 
torn loose and floated ahead of me. Finally I got an 
answer, and could see that Emery had launched his boat. 
As he drew near I told him to save the life-preserver, 
which he did, then hurriedly pulled for me. I remarked 
with a forced laugh, to reassure him, 



1 88 THROUGH THE GRAND CA^fYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

"Gee, Emery, this water's cold." 

He failed to join in my levity, however, and said with 
feeling, "Thank the good Lord you are here !" and 
down in my heart I echoed his prayer of thanks. 

Somehow I had lost all desire to successfully navigate 
the Soap Creek Rapid. 

But our troubles were not entirely over. Emery 
had pulled me in after a futile attempt or two, with a 
hold sometimes used by wrestlers, linking his arm in 
mine, leaning forward, and pulling me in over his back. 
I was so numbed by the cold that I could do little to help 
him, after what, I suppose, was about a quarter of an 
hour's struggle in the water; although it seemed much 
longer than that to me. 

We then caught the Edith and attempted to turn her 
over, but before this could be done we were dragged 
into the next rapid. Emery caught up the oars, while I 
could do nothing but hold to the upturned boat, half 
filled with water, striving to drag us against the wall 
on the left side of the stream. It was no small task to 
handle the two boats in this way, but Emery made it ; 
then, when he thought we were sure of a landing, the 
Edith dragged us into the river again. Two more small 
rapids were run as we peered through the darkness for 
a landing. Finally we reached the shore over a mile 
below the Soap Creek Rapid. We were on the opposite 
side of the stream from that where we had unloaded the 







Wfc4 



A NIGHT OF THRILLS 1 89 

Defiance. This material would have to stay where it was 
that night. 

While bailing the water from the Edith we noticed a 
peculiar odour, and thought for a while that it might be 
the body of the man who was drowned at the ferry, but 
later we found it came from a green cottonwood log 
that had become water-soaked, and was embedded in 
the sand, close to our landing. It was Emery's turn to 
do the greater part of the camp work that night, while I 
was content to hug the fire, wrapped in blankets, waiting 
for the coffee to boil. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS 

There was little of the spectacular in our work the 
next day as we slowly and laboriously dragged an empty 
boat upstream against the swift-running current, taking 
advantage of many little eddies, but finding much of the 
shore swept clean. I had ample opportunity to ponder 
on the wisdom of my attempt to save time by 
running the Soap Creek Rapid instead of making 
a portage, while we carried our loads over the immense 
boulders that banked the stream, down to a swift piece 
of water, past which we could not well bring the boats ; 
or while we developed the wet plates from the ruined 
plate-holders. It was with no little surprise that we 
found all the plates, except a few which were not uni- 
formly wet and developed unevenly, could be saved. 
It took a day and a half to complete all this work. 

Marble Canyon was now beginning to narrow up, 

with a steep, boulder-covered slope on either side, three 

or four hundred feet high ; with a sheer wall of dark red 

limestone of equal height directly above that. There 

190 



MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS 191 

was also a plateau of red sandstone and distant walls 
topped with light-coloured rock, the same formations with 
which we were familiar in the Grand Canyon. The 
inner gorge had narrowed from a thousand feet or more 
down to four hundred feet, the slope at the river was 
growing steeper and gradually disappearing, and each 
mile of travel had added a hundred feet or more to the 
height of the walls. Soon after resuming our journey 
that afternoon, the slope disappeared altogether, and the 
sheer walls came down close to the water. There were 
few places where one could climb out, had we desired to do 
so. This hard limestone wall, which Major Powell 
had named the marble wall, had a disconcerting way of 
weathering very smooth and sheer, with a few ledges 
and fewer breaks. 

We made a short run that day, going over a few rapids, 
stopping an hour to make some pictures where an im- 
mense rock had fallen from the cliff above into the 
middle of the river bed, leaving a forty-foot channel 
on one side, and scarcely any on the other. Below this 
we found a rapid so much like the Soap Creek Rapid in 
appearance that a portage seemed advisable. It was 
evening when we got the Edith to the lower end of this 
rapid after almost losing her, as we lined her down, and 
she was wedged under a sloping rock that overhung 
the rapid. We had two ropes, one at either end, attached 
to the boat in this case. Emery stood below the rock 



192 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

ready to pull her in when once past the rock. There 
was a sickening crackling of wood as the deck of the 
boat wedged under and down to the level of the water, 
and at Emery's call I released the boat, throwing the 
rope into the river, and hurried to help him. He was 
almost dragged into the water as the boat swung around, 
fortunately striking against a sand-bank, instead of the 
many rocks that lined the shore. We were working with 
a stream different from the Green River, we found, and 
the Defiance was taken from the water the next day and 
slowly worked, one end at a time, over the rocks, up to a 
level sand-bank, twenty-five or thirty feet above the 
river. Then we put rollers under her, and worked her 
down past the rapid. This work was little to our liking, 
for the boats, now pretty well water-soaked, weighed 
considerably more than their original five hundred 
pounds' weight. 

A few successful plunges soon brought back our 
former confidence, and we continued to run all other 
rapids that presented themselves. This afternoon we 
passed the first rapid we remembered having seen, where 
we could not land at its head before running it. A slightly 
higher stage of water, however, would have made many 
such rapids. Just below this point we found the body 
of a bighorn mountain-sheep floating in an eddy. It was 
impossible to tell just how he came to his death. There 
was no sign of any great fall that we could see. He had 




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a. O 
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MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS I93 

a Splendid pair of horns, which we would have liked to 
have had at home, but which we did not care to amputate 
and carry with us. 

On this day's travel, we passed a number of places 
where the marble — which had suggested this canyon's 
name to Major Powell — appeared. The exposed parts 
were checked, or seamed, and apparently would have 
little commercial value. We passed a shallow cave or two 
this day, then found another cave or hole, running back 
about fifteen feet in the wall, so suitable for a camp that 
we could not refuse the temptation to stop, although we 
had made but a very short run this day. The high water 
had entered it, depositing successive layers of sand on the 
bottom, rising in steps, one above the other, making con- 
venient shelves for maps and journals, pots and pans; 
while little shovelling was necessary to make the lower 
level of sand fit our sleeping bags. A number of small 
springs, bubbling from the walls near by, gave us the first 
clear water that we had found for some time, and a pile 
of driftwood caught in the rocks, directly in front of our 
cave, added to its desirability for a camp. Firewood 
was beginning to be the first consideration in choosing 
a camp, for in many places the high water had swept the 
shores clean, and spots which might otherwise have 
made splendid camps were rendered most undesirable 
for this reason. 

So Camp Number 47 was made in this little cave, with 



194 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

a violent rapid directly beneath us, making a din that 
might be anything but reassuring, were we not pretty 
well accustomed to it by this time. The next day, 
Sunday, November the I2th, was passed in the same 
spot. The air turned decidedly cold this day, a hard 
wind swept up the river, the sky above was overcast, 
and we had little doubt that snow was falling on the 
Kaibab Plateau, which we could not see, but which we 
knew rose to the height of 5500 feet above us, but a few 
miles to the northwest of this camp. The sheer walls 
directly above the river dropped down considerably 
at this point, and a break or two permitted us to climb up 
as high as we cared to go on the red sandstone wall, 
which had lost its level character, and now rose in a 
steep slope over a thousand feet above us. These walls, 
with no growth but the tussocks of bunch-grass, the 
prickly pear cactus, the mescal, and the yucca, were more 
destitute of growth than any we had seen, excepting 
the upper end of Desolation Canyon, even the upper walls 
lacking the growth of piiion pine and juniper which we 
usually associated with them. We were now directly 
below the Painted Desert, which lay to the left of the 
canyon, and no doubt a similar desert was on the right- 
hand side, in the form of a narrow plateau ; but we had 
no means of knowing just how wide or narrow this was, 
before it raised again to the forest-covered Buckskin 
Mountains and the Kaibab Plateau. 



MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS 195 

The rapid below our camp was just as bad as its roar, 
we found, on running it the next day. Most of the de- 
scent was confined to a violent drop at the very beginning, 
but there was a lot of complicated water in the big waves 
that followed. Emery was thrown forward in his boat, 
when he reached the bottom of the chute, striking his 
mouth, and bruising his hands, as he dropped his oars 
and caught the bulkhead. An extra oar was wrenched 
from the boat and disappeared in the white water, or 
foam that was as nearly white as muddy water ever gets. 
I nearly upset, and broke the pin of a rowlock, the 
released oar being jerked from my hand, sending me 
scrambling for an extra oar, when the boat swept into a 
swift whirlpool. Emery caught my oar as it whirled 
past him ; the other was found a half-mile below in an 
eddy. 

Some of the rapids in the centre of Marble Canyon 
were not more than 75 feet wide, with a corresponding 
violence of water. The whirlpools in the wider channels 
below these rapids were the strongest we had seen, and 
had a most annoying way of holding the boats just when 
we thought we had evaded them. Sometimes there would 
be a whirlpool on either side, with a sharply defined 
line of division in the centre, along which it was next to 
impossible to go without being caught on one side or 
the other. These whirlpools were seldom regarded as 
serious, for our boats were too wide and heavy to be 



196 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

readily overturned in them, although we saved ourselves 
more than one upset by throwing our weight to the op- 
posite side. A small boat would have upset. On two 
occasions we were caught in small whirlpools, where a 
point of rock projected from the shore, turning upstream, 
splitting a swift current and making a very rapid and 
difficult whirl, where the boats were nearly smashed 
against the walls. Below all such places were the familiar 
boils, or fountains, or shoots, as they are variously termed. 
These are the lower end of the whirlpools, emerging often 
from the quiet water below a rapid with nearly as much 
violence as they disappeared in the rapids above. These 
would often rise when least expected, breaking under the 
boats, the swift upshoot of water giving them such a rap 
that we sometimes thought we had struck a rock. If one 
happened to be in the centre of a boil when it broke, it 
would send them sailing down the stream many times 
faster than the regular current was travelling, rowing 
the boat having about as little effect on determining its 
course as if it was loaded on a flat-car. The other boat, 
at times just a few feet away, might be caught in the 
whirlpools that formed at the edge of the fountains, 
often opening up suddenly under one side of the boat, 
causing it to dip until the water poured over the edge, 
holding it to that one spot in spite of every efi'ort to row 
away. 

Then we would strike peaceful water again, a mile or 




VW-VLLS OF MARBLE CANYON. 



Copyright by Kolb Bros. 



MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS 1 97 

two perhaps, so quiet that a thin covering of clear water 
spread over the top of the silt-laden pool beneath, re- 
flecting the tinted walls and the turquoise sky beneath its 
limpid surface. Gems of sunlight sparkled on its bosom 
and scintillated in the ripples left behind by the oars. 
When seated with our backs to the strongest light, and 
when glancing along the top of such a pool instead of 
into it, the mirror-like surface gave way to a peculiar 
purplish tone which seemed to cover the pool, so that one 
would forget it was roily water, and saw only the iridescent 
beauty of a mountain stream. 

The wonderful marble walls — better known to the 
miners as the blue limestone walls — now rose from the 
water's edge to a height of eight or nine hundred feet, 
the surface of its light blue-gray rock being stained 
to a dark red, or a light red as the case might be, by the 
iron from the sandstone walls above. There were a 
thousand feet of these sandstone layers, red in all its 
varying hues, capped by the four-hundred foot cross- 
bedded sandstone wall, breaking sheer, ranging in tone 
from a soft buflF to a golden yellow, with a bloom, or glow, 
as though illuminated from within. As we proceeded, 
another layer could be seen above this, the same limestone 
and with the same fossils — an examination of the rock- 
slides told us — as the topmost formation at the Grand 
Canyon. This was not unlike the cross-bedded sand- 
stone in colour, but lacked its warmth and richness of tint. 



198 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

A close examination of the rocks revealed many colours, 
that figured but little in the grand colour scheme of the 
canyon as a whole — the detailed ornamentation of 
the magnificent rock structure. A fracture of wall 
would show the true colour of the rock, beneath the stain ; 
lime crystals studded its surface, like gems glinting 
in the sunlight; beautifully tinted jasper, resembling the 
petrified wood found in another part of Arizona, was 
embedded in the marble wall, — usually at the point of 
contact with another formation, — polished by the sands 
of the turbid river. 

All this told us that we were coming into our own. 
Four of the seven notable divisions of rock strata found 
in the Grand Canyon were now represented in Marble 
Canyon, and soon the green shale, which underlies the 
blue limestone, began to crop out by the river as the walls 
grew higher and the stream cut deeper. 

One turn of the canyon revealed a break where Stanton 
hid his provisions in a cave — after a second fatality in 
which two more of this ill-fated expedition lost their 
lives — and climbed out on top. Afterwards he re-out- 
fitted with heavier boats and tackled the stream again. 

Just below this break the scene changed as we made 
a sharp turn to the left. Vasey's Paradise — named by 
Major Powell after Dr. Geo. W. Vasey, botanist of the 
United States Department of Agriculture — was dis- 
closed to view. Beautiful streams gushed from rounded 



MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS 199 

holes, fifty yards above the river. The rock walls re- 
minded one of an ivy-covered castle of old England, 
guarded by a moat uncrossed by any drawbridge. It 
was trelllsed with vines, maidenhair ferns, and water-moss 
making a vivid green background for the golden yellow 
and burnished copper leaves which still clung to some 
small Cottonwood trees — the only trees we had seen in 
Marble Canyon. 

In our haste to push on, we left the brass motion- 
picture tripod head on an island, from which we pictured 
this lovely spot. A rapid was put behind us before we 
noticed our loss, and there was no going back then. 

Another turn revealed a Gothic arch, or grotto, carved 
at the bend of the wall by the high water, with an overhang 
of more than a hundred feet, and a height nearly as great, 
for the flood waters ran above the hundred-foot stage in 
this narrow walled section. Then came a gloomy, prison- 
like formation, with a ''Bridge of Sighs" two hundred 
feet above a gulch, connecting the dungeon to the per- 
pendicular wall beyond ; and with a hundred cave-like 
openings in its sheer sides like small windows, admitting 
a little daylight into its dark interior. The sullen boom 
of a rapid around the turn sounded like the march of an 
army coming up the gorge, so we climbed back into our 
boats after a vain attempt to climb up to some of the 
caves, and advanced to meet our foe. This rapid — the 
tenth for the day — while it was clear of rocks, had an 



200 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

abrupt drop, with powerful waves which did all sorts of 
things to us and to our boats ; breaking a rowlock and the 
four pieces of line which held it, and flooding us both with 
a ton of water. We went into camp a short distance be- 
low this, in a narrow box canyon running back a hundred 
yards from the river, a gloomy, cathedral-like interior, 
with sheer walls rising several hundred feet on three 
sides of us, and with the top of the south wall 2500 feet 
above us in plain sight of our camp, the one camp in 
Marble Canyon where our sleep was undisturbed by 
the roar of a rapid. But instead of the roar of a rapid, a 
howling wind swept down from the Painted Desert 
above, piling the mingled desert sands and river sands 
about our beds, scattering our camp material over the 
bottom of the narrow gorge. 

Soon after this camp — the fourth and the last in 
Marble Canyon — was left behind us, the walls began to 
widen out, especially on the north-northwest, and by noon 
we had passed from the narrow, direct canyon, into one 
with slopes and plateaus breaking the sheer walls, the wall 
on the left or southeast side being much the lower of the 
two, and more nearly perpendicular, rising to a height of 
3200 feet, while the northwest side lifted up to the Kaibab 
Plateau, one point — miles back from the river — rising 
6000 feet above us. 

We halted at noon beside the Nancoweep Valley, a 
wide tributary heading many miles back in the plateau on 



MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS 20I 

the right, with a ramified series of canyons running into 
it, and with great expanses of sage-covered flats between. 
Deer tracks were found on these flats, deer which came 
down from the forest of the Buckskin Mountains. This 
was the point selected by Major Powell for the construc- 
tion of a trail when he returned from his voyage of ex- 
ploration to study the geology of this section. The 
trail, although neglected for many years, is still used by 
prospectors from Kanab, Utah, who make a yearly trip 
into the canyons to do some work on a mineral ledge 
a few miles below here. 

What a glorious, exhilarating run we had that day ! 
From here to the end of Marble Canyon the rapids were 
almost continuous, with few violent drops and seldom 
broken by the usual quiet pools. It was the finest kind 
of water for fast travelling, and we made the most of it. 
The only previous run we had made that could in any way 
compare with it was in Whirlpool and Split Mountain 
canyons, when the high water was on. As we travelled, 
occasional glimpses were had of familiar places on Green- 
land Point — that thirty-mile peninsula of the Kaibab 
Plateau extending between Marble Canyon and the 
Grand Canyon — where we had gone deer-hunting, or on 
photographic expeditions with Rust. 

Another valley from the right was passed, then a peak 
rose before us close to the river, with its flat top rising 
to a height equal to the south wall. This was Chuar 



202 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

Butte. Once more we were in a narrow canyon, narrowed 
by this peak, but a canyon just the same. Soon we were 
below a wall we once had photographed from the mouth 
of the Little Colorado; then the stream itself came in 
view and we were soon anchored beside it. This was the 
beginning of the Grand Canyon. 




APPROACHIXG THE GRAND CANYON. 



Copyright bu Kolb Bros. 
NOTE BOAT. 



CHAPTER XIX 

SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 

How long we had waited for this view ! How many 
memories it recalled — and how different it seemed to our 
previous visit there ! Then, the high water was on, and 
the turquoise-tinted mineral water of the Colorado 
Chiquito was backed up by the turbid flood waters of 
the Rio Colorado, forty feet or more above the present 
level. Now it was a rapid stream, throwing itself with 
wild abandon over the rocks and into the Colorado- 
There was the same deserted stone hut, built by a 
French prospector, many years before, and a plough that 
he had packed in over a thirty-mile trail — the most difii- 
cult one in all this rugged region ! There was the little 
grass-plot where we pastured the burro, while we made a 
fifteen-mile walk up the bed of this narrow canyon ! 
What a hard, hot journey it had been ! A year and a half 
ago we sat on that rock, and talked of the day when we 
should come through here in boats ! Even then we talked 
of building a raft, and of loading the burro on it for a spin 

on the flood waters. Lucky for us and for the burro 

203 



204 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

that we didn't ! We understand the temper of these 
waters now. 

Cape Desolation, a point of the Painted Desert on 
the west side of the Little Colorado, was almost directly 
above us, 3200 feet high. Chuar Butte, equally as high 
and with walls just as nearly perpendicular, extended 
on into the Grand Canyon on the right side, making the 
narrowest canyon of this depth that we had seen. The 
Navajo reservation terminated at the Little Colorado, 
although nothing but the maps indicated that we had 
passed from the land of the Red man to that of the White. 
Both were equally desolate, and equally wonderful. 
With the entrance of the new stream the canyon changes 
its southwest trend and turns directly west, and continues 
to hold to this general direction until the northwest 
corner of Arizona is reached. 

But we must be on again ! Soon familiar segregated 
peaks in the Grand Canyon began to appear. There 
was Wotan's Throne on the right, and the "Copper 
Mine Mesa" on the left. Three or four miles below 
the junction a four-hundred foot perpendicular wall 
rose above us. The burro, on our previous visit, was 
almost shoved off that cliff when the pack caught on a 
rock, and was only saved by strenuous pulling on the 
neck-rope and pack harness. Soon we passed some 
tunnels on both sides of the river where the Mormon 
miners had tapped a copper ledge. At 4.15 p.m. we 



SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 205 

were at the end of the Tanner Trail, the outlet of the Little 
Colorado Trail to the rim above. It had taken seven 
hours of toil to cover the same ground we now sped over 
in an hour and a quarter. Major Powell, in 1872, 
found here the remnant of a very small hut built of mes- 
quite logs, but whether the remains of an Indian's or 
white man's shelter cannot be stated. The trail, without 
doubt, was used by the Indians before the white man in- 
vaded this region. 

The canyon had changed again from one which was 
very narrow to one much more complex, greater, and 
grander. The walls on top were many miles apart; 
Comanche Point, to our left, was over 4000 feet above us ; 
Desert View, Moran Point, and other points on the 
south rim were even higher. On the right we could 
see an arch near Cape Final on Greenland Point, over 
5000 feet up, that we had photographed, from the top, 
a few years before. Pagoda-shaped temples — the forma- 
tion so typical of the Grand Canyon — clustered on all 
sides. The upper walls were similar in tint to those 
in Marble Canyon, but here at the river was a new forma- 
tion ; the algonkian, composed of thousands of brilliantly 
coloured bands of rock, standing at an angle — the one 
irregularity to the uniform layers of rock — a remnant 
of thousands of feet of rock which once covered this 
region, then was planed away before the other deposits 
were placed. All about us, close to the river, was a 



2o6 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

deep, soft sand formed by the disintegration of the rocks 
above, as brilliantly coloured as the rocks from which 
they came. What had been a very narrow stream 
above here spread out over a thousand feet wide, ran 
with a good current, and seemed to be anything but a 
shallow stream at that. 

We had travelled far that day but still sped on, — with 
a few rapids which did not retard, but rather helped us 
on our way, and with a good current between these 
rapids, — only stopping to camp when a three-hundred 
foot wall rose sheer from the river's edge, bringing to an 
end our basin-like river bottom, where one could walk 
out on either side. It was not necessary to hunt for 
driftwood this evening, for a thicket of mesquite — the 
best of all wood for a camp-fire — grew out of the sand- 
dunes, and some half-covered dead logs were unearthed 
from the drifted sand, and soon reduced to glowing coals. 

Meanwhile, we were enjoying one of those remarkable 
Arizona desert sunsets. Ominous clouds had been 
gathering in the afternoon, rising from the southwest, 
drifting across the canyon, and piling up against the 
north wall. A few fleecy clouds in the west partially 
obscured the sun until it neared the horizon, then a 
shaft of sunlight broke through once more, telegraphing 
its approach long before it reached us, the rays being 
visibly hurled through space like a javelin, or a lightning 
bolt, striking peak after peak so that one almost imagined 



SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 207 

they would hear the thunder roll. A yellow flame 
covered the western sky, to be succeeded in a few minutes 
by a crimson glow. The sharply defined colours of the 
different layers of rock had merged and softened, as the 
sun dropped from sight ; purple shadows crept into the 
cavernous depths, while shafts of gold shot to the very 
tiptop of the peaks, or threw their shadows like silhouettes 
on the wall beyond. Then the scene shifted again, and it 
was all blood-red, reflecting from the sky and staining 
the rocks below, so that distant wall and sky merged, 
with little to show where the one ended and the other 
began. That beautiful haze, which tints, but does not 
obscure, enshrouded the temples and spires, changing 
from heliotrope to lavender, from lavender to deepest 
purple ; there was a departing flare of flame like the col- 
lapse of a burning building ; a few clouds in the zenith, 
torn by the winds so that they resembled the craters 
of the moon, were tinted for an instant around the crater's 
rims ; the clouds faded to a dove-like gray ; they darkened ; 
the gray disappeared ; the purple crept from the canyon 
into the arched dome overhead ; the day w^as ended, 
twilight passed, and darkness settled over all. 

We sat silently by the fire for a few minutes, then 
rose and resumed our evening's work. This camp 
was at a point that could be seen from the Grand View 
hotel, fourteen miles from our home. We talked of 
building a signal fire on the promontory above the camp. 



208 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

knowing that the news would be telephoned to our 
home if the fire was seen. But we gave up the plan. 
Although less than twenty miles from Bright Angel 
Trail, we were not safely through by any means. Two 
boats had been wrecked or lost in different rapids less than 
six miles from this camp. The forty-foot fall in the 
Hance or Red Canyon Rapid was three miles below us ; 
the Sockdologer, the Grapevine, and other rapids nearly 
as large followed those ; we might be no more fortunate 
than the others, and a delay after once giving a signal 
would cause more anxiety than no signal at all we 
thought, and the fire was not built. 

Particular attention was paid to the loading of the 
boats the next morning. The moving-picture film was 
tucked in the toes of our sleeping bags, and the protecting 
bags were carefully laced. We were not going to take 
any chances in this next plunge — the much-talked-of 
entrance to the granite gorge. A half-hour's run and a 
dash through one violent rapid landed us at the end of 
the Hance Trail — unused for tourist travel for several 
years — with a few torn and tattered tents back in 
the side canyon down which the trail wound its way. 
We half hoped that we would find some of the prospec- 
tors who make this section their winter home either 
at the Tanner or the Hance Trail, but there was no sign of 
recent visitors at either place, unless it was the numerous 
burro tracks in the sand. These tracks were doubtless 



SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 209 

made by some of the many wild burros that roam all 
over the lower plateaus in the upper end of the Grand 
Canyon. 

After a careful inspection of the Hance Rapid we 
were glad the signal fire was not built. It was a nasty 
rapid. While reading over our notes one evening we 
were amused to find that we had catalogued different 
rapids with an equal amount of fall as "good," "bad," or 
"nasty," the difference depending nearly altogether on 
the rocks in the rapids. The "good rapids" were noth- 
ing but a descent of "big water," with great waves, — for 
which we cared little, but rather enjoyed if It was not 
too cold, — and with no danger from rocks; the "bad 
rapids" contained rocks, and twisting channels, but 
with half a chance of getting through. A nasty rapid 
was filled with rocks, many of them so concealed in the 
foam that it was often next to impossible to tell if rocks 
were there or not, and in which there was little chance 
of running through without smashing a boat. The 
Hance Rapid was such a one. 

Such a complication of twisted channels and pro- 
truding rocks we had not seen unless it was at Hell's 
Half Mile. It meant a portage — nothing less — the 
second since leaving that other rapid in Lodore. So 
we went to work, carrying our duffle across deep, soft 
sand-dunes, down to the middle of the rapid, where 
it quieted for a hundred yards before it made the final 



2IO THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

plunge. The gathering dusk of evening found all ma- 
terial and one boat at this spot, with the other one at 
the head of the rapid, to be portaged the next day. 
But we did not portage this boat. A good night's rest, 
and the safeguard of a boat at the bottom of the plunge 
made it look much less dangerous, and five minutes after 
breakfast was finished, this boat was beside its mate, 
and we had a reel of film which we hoped would show 
just how we successfully ran this difficult rapid. While 
going over the second section, on the opposite side 
of the river, Emery was thrown out of his boat for an 
instant when the Edith touched a rock in a twenty-five 
mile an hour current, similar to my first upset in the 
Soap Creek Rapid — the old story : out again ; in 
again ; on again — landing in safety at the end of the 
rapid not one whit the worse for the spill. 

This rapid marks the place where the granite, or ig- 
neous rock, intrudes, rising at a sharp angle, sloping 
upward down the stream, reaching the height of 1300 feet 
about one mile below. It marks the end of the large 
deposit of algonkian. The granite, when it attains its 
highest point, is covered with a 200-foot layer of 
sedimentary rock called the tonto sandstone. The 
top of this formation is. exposed by a plateau from a 
quarter of a mile to three miles in width, on either 
side of the granite gorge ; the same walls which were 
found in Marble Canyon rise above this. The temples 



SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 211 

which are scattered through the canyon — equal in 
height, in many cases, to the walls — have their foun- 
dation on this plateau. These peaks contain the same 
stratified rock with a uniform thickness whether in 
peak or wall, with little displacement and little sign 
of violent uplift, nearly all this canyon being the work of 
erosion : 5000 feet from the rim to the river ; the edges 
of six great layers of sedimentary rock laid bare and with 
a narrow 1300- foot gorge through the igneous rock 
below — the Grand Canyon of Arizona. 

The granite gorge seemed to us to be the one place 
of all others that we had seen on this trip that would 
cause one to hesitate a long time before entering, if noth- 
ing definite was known of its nature. Another person 
might have felt the same way of the canyons we had 
passed, Lodore or Marble Canyon, for instance. A 
great deal depends on the nerves and digestion, no doubt ; 
and the same person would look at it in a different light 
at different times, as we found from our own experiences. 
Our digestions were in excellent condition just at that 
time, and we were nerved up by the thought that we 
were going "to the plate for a home run" if possible, yet 
the granite gorge had a decidedly sinister look. The walls, 
while not sheer, were nearly so ; they might be climbed in 
many places to the top of the granite ; but the tonto sand- 
stone wall nearly always overhangs this, breaks sheer, 
and seldom aflFords an outlet to the plateaus above, except 



212 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

where lateral canyons cut through. The rocks are very 
dark, with dikes of quartz, and with twisting seams of red 
and black granite, the great body of rock being made up 
of decomposed micaceous schists and gneiss, a treacher- 
ous material to climb. The entrance to this gorge is 
made on a quiet pool with no shore on either side after 
once well in. 

But several parties had been through since Major 
Powell made his initial trip, so we did not hesitate, but 
pushed on with the current. Now we could truly say 
that we were going home. The Hance Rapid was be- 
hind us ; Bright Angel Creek was about twelve miles 
away. Soon we were in the deepest part of the gorge. 
Great dikes and uplifts of jagged rocks towered above 
us ; and up, up, up, lifted the other walls above that. 
Bissell Point, on the very top, could plainly be seen from 
our quiet pool. 

Then came a series of rapids quite different from the 
Hance Rapid, and many others found above. Those 
others were usually caused in part by the detritus or de- 
posit from side canyons, which dammed the stream, and 
what might be a swift stream, with a continuous drop, 
was transformed to a succession of mill-ponds and cata- 
racts, or rapids. In nearly every case, in low water such 
as we were travelling on, the deposit made a shore on 
which we could land and inspect the rapid from below. 
The swift water invariably makes a narrow channel 



SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 21 3 

if it has no obstruction in its way ; it is the quiet stream 
that makes a wide channel. But the rapids we found 
this day were nearly all different. They were seldom 
caused by great deposits of rock, but appeared to be 
formed by a dike or ledge of hard rock rising from the 
softer rock — the same intrusion being sometimes found 
on both sides of the stream — forming a dam the full 
width of the channel, over which the water made a swift 
descent, with a long line of interference waves below. 
But for a cold wind which swept up the stream, this style 
of rapid was more to our fancy. These were "good 
rapids," the "best" we had seen. There were few 
rocks to avoid. Some of the rapids were violent, but 
careful handling took us past every danger. There 
was little chance to make a portage at several of these 
places had we desired to do so. We gave them but a 
glance from the decks of the boats, then dropped into 
them. In one instance I saw the Edith literally shoot 
through a wave bow first, both ends of the boat being 
visible, while her captain was buried in the foam. 

We had learned to discriminate by its noise, long 
before we could see a rapid, whether it was filled with 
rocks, or was merely a descent of big water. The latter, 
often just as impressive as the former, had a sullen, steady 
boom ; the rocky rapids had the same sound, punctuated 
by another sound, like the crack of regiments of musketry. 
All were greatly magnified in sound by the narrow, echo- 



214 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

ing walls. We became so accustomed to this noise that 
we almost forgot it was there, and it was only after the 
long, quiet stretches that the noise was noticed. In a 
few instances only we noticed the shattering vibration 
of air that is associated with waterfalls. Still there is 
noise enough in many rapids so that their boom can be 
heard several miles away from the top of the canyons. 

Guided by these sounds, and aided by our method of 
holding the boat in mid-stream, while making a recon- 
noissance, we were quite well aware of what we were 
likely to find before we anchored above a rapid. We 
were never fearful of being drawn into a cataract without 
having a chance to land somewhere. The water is 
strangely quiet, to a comparatively close distance above 
nearly all rapids. We usually tied up anywhere from 
fifty feet to a hundred yards above a drop, before inspect- 
ing it. If it was a "big-water" rapid, we usually looked 
it over standing on the seat in the boats, then continued. 
By signals with the hands, the one first over would guide 
the other, if any hidden rocks or dangerous channel 
threatened. While we did not think much about it, 
we usually noted the places where one might climb out 
on the plateau. Little could be told about the upper 
walls from the river. 

A chilling wind swept up the river, penetrating our 
soaked garments. But we paid little attention to this, 
only pulling the harder, not only to keep the circulation 



SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 21 5 

going, but every pull of the oars put us that much nearer 
home. We never paused in our rowing until we anchored 
at 4.30 P.M. under Rust's tramway, close to the mouth 
of Bright Angel Creek. According to the United States 
Geological Survey there is a descent of 178 feet from the 
head of the Hance Rapid to the end of Bright Angel 
Trail, one mile below the creek. We would have a 
very moderate descent in that mile. The run from the 
Hance Rapid had been made in less than five hours. 

Our boats were tied in the shadow of the cage hanging 
from a cable sixty feet above. It stretched across a quiet 
pool, 450 feet across — for the river is dammed by debris 
from the creek below, and fills the channel from wall to 
wall. Hurriedly we made our way up to Rust's camp, 
— closed for the winter ; for heavy snows would cover 
the North Rim in a few days or a few weeks at the far- 
thest, filling the trails with heavy drifts and driving the 
cougar into the canyon where dogs and horses cannot 
follow. But the latch-string was out for us, we knew, 
had we cared to use the tents. Our signal fire was built 
a mile above the camp, at a spot that was plainly visible 
on a clear day from our home on the other side, six miles 
away as the crow flies. We had often looked at this spot, 
with a telescope, from the veranda of our studio, watch- 
ing the hunting and sight-seeing parties ride up the bed 
of the stream. We rather feared the drifting clouds and 
mists would hide the fire from view, but now and then 



21 6 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

a rift appeared, and we knew If they were looking they 
could see its light. Camp No. 51 was made close to 
Bright Angel Creek, that evening, Thursday, October 
the 1 6th, two months and eight days from the time we 
had embarked on our journey. 

Three or four hours were spent in packing our ma- 
terial the next morning, so it could be stored in a miners' 
tunnel, near the end of the trail. We would pack little 
of this out, as we intended to resume our river work in a 
week or ten days. A five-minute run took us over the 
rapid below Bright Angel Creek, and down to a bend in 
the river, just above the Cameron or Bright Angel Trail. 
Two men — guides from the hotel — called to us as our 
boats swept into view. We made a quick dash over the 
vicious little drop below the bend, — easy for our boats, 
but dangerous enough for lighter craft on account of a 
difficult whirlpool, — and were soon on shore greeting 
old friends. Up on the plateau, 1300 feet above, a trail 
party of tourists and guides called down their welcome. 
The stores were put in the miners' tunnel as we had 
planned, and the boats were taken above the high-water 
mark ; placed in dry dock one might say. 

The guides had good news for us and bad news too. 
Emery's wife had been 111 with appendicitis nearly all 
the time we were on our journey. We had received 
letters from her at every post-office excepting Lee's Ferry, 
but never a hint that all w^as not well. She knew It would 
break up the trip. _ Pretty good nerve, we thought ! 



SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 21/ 

Ragged and weary, but happy ; a little lean and over- 
trained, but feeling entirely "fit," — we commenced our 
seven-mile climb up the trail, every turn of which seemed 
like an old friend. When 1300 feet above the river, our 
little workshop beside a stream on the plateau — only 
used at intervals when no water can be had on top, and 
closed for three months past — gave us our first cheerless 
greeting. Although little more than a hundred feet from 
the trail, we did not stop to inspect it. Cameron's Indian 
Garden Camp was also closed for the day, and we were 
disappointed in a hope that we could telephone to our 
home, 3200 feet above. But the tents, under rows of 
waving cottonwoods, and surrounded by beds of bloom- 
ing roses and glorious chrysanthemums, gave us a more 
cheerful welcome than our little building below. We 
only stopped to quench our thirst in the bubbling spring, 
then began the four-mile climb that would put us on top 
of the towering cliff. Soon we overtook the party we 
had seen on the plateau. Some of the tourists kindly 
offered us their mules, but mules were too slow for us, 
and they were soon far below us. Calls, faint at first, 
but growing louder as we advanced, came floating down 
from above. On nearing the top our younger brother 
Ernest, who had come on from Pittsburg to look after 
our business, came running down the trail to greet us. 
One member of a troupe of moving-picture actors, in 
cowboy garb, remarked that we "didn't look like moving- 



2l8 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

picture explorers"; then little Edith emerged from our 
studio just below the head of Bright Angel Trail and 
came skipping down toward us, but stopped suddenly 
when near us, and said smilingly : 

"Is that my Daddy with all those whiskers ?" 




BRIGHT ANGEL CRKEk AXU CANYON. 



Copyright by Kolb Bros. 



CHAPTER XX 

ONE MONTH LATER 

Naturally we were very impatient to know just 
what success we had met with in our photographic work. 
Some of the motion pictures had been printed and re- 
turned to us. My brother, who meanwhile had taken 
his family to Los Angeles, sent very encouraging reports 
regarding some of the films. 

Among the Canyon visitors who came down to inspect 

the results of our trip were Thomas Moran, the famous 

artist, with his daughter. Miss Ruth, whose interest was 

more than casual. Thomas Moran's name, more than any 

other, with the possible exception of Major Powell's, is 

to be associated with the Grand Canyon. It was his 

painting which hangs in the capital at Washington that 

first acquainted the American public with the wonders 

of the Canyon. This painting was the result of a journey 

he made with Major Powell, from Salt Lake City to the 

north side of the Canyon, thirty-eight years before. 

In addition he had made most of the cuts that illustrated 

Major Powell's government report ; making his sketches 

219 



220 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

on wood from photographs this expedition had taken 
with the old-fashioned wet plates that had to be coated 
and developed on the spot — wonderful photographs, 
which for beauty, softness, and detail are not excelled, 
and are scarcely equalled by more modern plates and 
photographic results. The only great advantage of 
the dry plates was the fact that they could catch the 
action of the water with an instantaneous exposure, where 
the wet plates had to have a long exposure and lost that 
action. 

Thomas Moran could pick up almost any picture that 
we made, and tell us at once just what section it came 
from and Its identifying characteristics. His daughter, 
Miss Ruth, was just as much interested in our trip and 
its results. She was anxious to know when we would go 
on again and planned on making the trail trip down to 
the plateau to see us take the plunge over the first rough 
rapid. She was just a little anxious to see an upset, 
and asked if we could not promise that one would occur. 

A month passed before my brother returned from Los 
Angeles. His wife, who had remained there, was in 
good health again, and insisted on his finishing the trip 
at once. We were just as anxious to have it finished, but 
were not very enthusiastic about this last part on account 
of some very cold weather we had been having. On 
the other hand, we feared if the trip was not finished then 
it might never be completed. So we consoled ourselves 



ONE MONTH LATER 221 

with the thought that It was some warmer at the bottom 
than it was on top, and prepared to make the final plunge 
— 350 miles to Needles, with a 1600-foot descent in the 
185 miles that remained of the Grand Canyon. 

A foot of snow had fallen two nights before we planned 
on leaving. The thermometer had dropped to zero, and a 
little below on one occasion, during the nights for a week 
past. Close to the top the trail was filled with drifts. 
The walls were white with snow down to the plateau, 
3200 feet below; something unusual, as it seldom de- 
scends as snow lower than two thousand feet, but turns 
to rain. But a week of cold, cloudy weather, accompanied 
by hard winds, had driven all warmth from the canyon, 
allowing this snow to descend lower than usual. Under 
such conditions the damp cold in the canyon, while not 
registered on the thermometer as low as that on top, is 
more penetrating. Very little sun reaches the bottom 
of the inner gorge in December and January. It is 
usually a few degrees colder than the inner plateau 
above it, which is open, and does get some sun. These 
were the conditions when we returned to our boats 
December the 19th, 191 1, and found a thin covering of 
ice on small pools near the river. 

Our party was enlarged by the addition of two men 
who were anxious for some river experience. One was 
our younger brother, Ernest. We agreed to take him 
as far as the Bass Trail, twenty-five miles below, where 



222 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

he could get out on top and return to our home. The 
other was a young man named Bert Lauzon, who wanted 
to make the entire trip, and we were glad to have him. 
Lauzon, although but 24 years old, had been a quartz 
miner and mining engineer for some years. Coming 
from the mountains of Colorado, he had travelled over 
most of the Western states, and a considerable part of 
Mexico, in his expeditions. There was no question in 
our minds about Lauzon. He was the man we needed. 

To offset the weight of an extra man for each boat, 
our supplies were cut to the minimum, arrangements 
having been made with W. W. Bass — the proprietor 
of the Bass Camps and of the Mystic Springs Trail — 
to have some provisions packed in over his trail. What 
provisions we took ourselves were packed down on two 
mules, and anything we could spare from our boats was 
packed out on the same animals. As we were about 
ready to leave a friendly miner said: ''You can't hook 
fish in the Colorado in the winter, they won't bite nohow. 
You'd better take a couple of sticks of my giant-powder 
along. That will help you get 'em, and it may keep you 
from starving." Under the circumstances it seemed like 
a wise precaution and we took his giant-powder, as he 
had suggested. 

The river had fallen two feet below the stage on 
which we quit a month before. A scale of foot-marks 
on a rock wall rising from the river showed that the water 




6 



ONE MONTH LATER 223 

was twenty-seven feet deep at that spot. No measure- 
ment was made in the middle of the river channel. The 
current here between two small rapids flows at five 
and three-fourths miles per hour. The width of the stream 
is close to 250 feet. The high-water mark here is forty- 
five feet above the low-water stage, then the river spreads 
to five hundred feet in width, running with a swiftness 
and strength of current and whirlpool that is tremendous. 
The highest authentic measurement in a narrow channel, 
of which we know, is one made by Julius F. Stone in 
Marble Canyon. He recorded one spot where the high- 
water mark was 115 feet above the low-water mark. 
These figures might look large at first, but if they 
are compared with some of the floods on the Ohio 
River, for instance, and that stream were boxed in a 
two hundred foot channel the difference would not be 
great, we imagine. 

One of the young men who greeted us when we landed 
came down with a companion to see us embark. On 
the plateau 1300 feet above, looking like small insects 
against the sky-line, was a trail party, equally interested. 
They did not stand on the point usually visited by such 
parties but had gone to a point about a mile to the west, 
where they had a good view of a short, rough rapid. 
The little rapid below the trail, while it was no place 
that one would care to swim in, had no comparison with 
this other rapid in violence. We had promised the 



224 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

party that we would run this rapid that afternoon, so 
we spent little time in packing systematically, but hur- 
riedly threw^ the stuff in and embarked. Less than an 
hour later we had made the two-mile run and the dash 
through the short rapid, to the entire satisfaction of all 
concerned. 

We camped a short distance below the rapid, just 
opposite a grave of a man whose skeleton had been found 
halfway up the granite, five years before. Judging by 
his clothes and hob-nailed shoes he was a prospector. 
He was lying in a natural position, with his head resting 
on a rock. An overcoat was buttoned tightly about him. 
No large bones were broken, but he might have had a 
fall and been injured internally. More likely he became 
sick and died. The small bones of the hands and feet 
had been taken away by field-mice, and no doubt the 
turkey-buzzards had stripped the flesh. His pockets 
contained Los Angeles newspapers of 1900 ; he was found 
in 1906. The pockets also contained a pipe and a pocket- 
knife, but nothing by which he could be identified. The 
coroner's jury — of which my brother was a member — 
buried him where he was found, covering the body with 
rocks, for there was no earth. 

Such finds are not unusual in this rugged country. 
These prospectors seldom say where they are going, no 
track is kept of their movements, and unless something 
about their clothes tells who they are, their identity is 



ONE MONTH LATER 225 

seldom established. The proximity of this grave made 
us wonder how many more such unburied bodies there 
were along this river. We thought too of our friend 
Smith, back in Cataract Canyon, and wondered if we 
would hear from him again. 

Our helpers got a lot of experience In motion-picture 
making the next day, while we ran our boats through a 
number of good, strong rapids, well known locally as the 
Salt Creek Rapid, Granite Falls or Monument Rapid, 
the Hermit, the Bouchere, and others. This was all 
new to the boys, and provided some thrilling entertain- 
ment for them. When a difficult passage was safely 
made Bert would wave his hat and yell "Hoo" in a deep, 
long call that would carry above the roar of the rapids, 
then he and Ernest would follow along the shore with 
their cameras, as these rapids all had a shore on one 
side or the other. The sun shone on the river this day, 
and we congratulated ourselves on having made the most 
of our opportunities. 

In our first rapid the next morning, we had to carry 
our passengers whether we wanted to or not. There 
was no shore on either side. In such plunges they would 
lie down on the deck of the boat behind the oarsman, 
holding to the raised bulkhead, ducking their heads when 
an oncoming wave prepared to break over them. Then 
they would shake themselves as a water-spaniel does, 
and Bert with a grin would say, 

Q 



226 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

"Young fellows, business is picking up !" 
Ernest agreed, too, that he had never seen anything 
in Pittsburg that quite equalled it. If the rapid was not 
bad, they sat upright on the deck, but this made the 
boats top-heavy, and as much of the oarsman's work 
depended on swinging his weight from side to side, it 
was important that no mistake should be made about 
this distribution of weight. Often the bottom of a boat 
would show above the water as it listed to one side. At 
such a time a person sitting on the raised deck might get 
thrown overboard. 

Before starting on this last trip we had thought it 
would be only right to give our younger brother a ride in 
a rapid that would be sure to give him a good ducking, 
as his experience was going to be short. But the water 
and the wind, especially in the shadows, was so very 
cold that we gave this plan up, and avoided the waves 
as much as possible. He got a ducking this morning, 
however, in a place where we least expected it. It was 
not a rapid, just smooth, very swift water, while close 
to the right shore there was one submerged rock with a 
foot of water shooting over it, in such a way that it made 
a "reverse whirl" as they are called in Alaska — water 
rolling back upstream, and from all sides as well, to 
fill the vacuum just below the rock. This one was about 
twelve feet across ; the water disappeared as though it 
was being poured down a manhole. 



ONE MONTH LATER 



227 



The least care, or caution, would have taken me clear 
of this place ; but the smooth water was so deceptive, 
and was so much stronger than I had judged it to be, 
that I found myself caught sideways to the current, 
hemmed in with waves on all sides of the boat, knocked 
back and forth, and resisted in all my efforts to pull 
clear. The boat was gradually filling with the splashing 
water. Ernest was lying on the deck, hanging on like 
grim death, slipping off, first on one side, then on the 
other, and wondering what was going to happen. So was 
I. To be held up in the middle of a swift stream was a 
new experience, and I was not proud of it. The others 
passed as soon as they saw what had happened, and 
were waiting in an eddy below. Perhaps we were there 
only one minute, but it seemed like five. I helped Ernest 
into the cockpit. About that time the boat filled with 
splashing water and sunk low, the stream poured over 
the rock and into the boat, and she upset instantly. 

Ernest had on two life-preservers, and came up about 
thirty feet below, swimming very well considering that 
he was weighted with heavy clothes and high-topped 
shoes. The boys pulled him in before he was carried 
against a threatening wall. Meanwhile, I held to the 
boat, which was forced out as soon as she was overturned, 
and climbed on top, or rather on the bottom. I was 
trying to make the best of things and was giving a cheer 
when some one said. 



228 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

"There goes your hatch cover and you've lost the 
motion-picture camera." 

Perhaps I had. My cheering ceased. The camera 
had been hurriedly shoved down in the hatch a few min- 
utes before. 

On being towed to shore, however, we found the 
camera had not fallen out. It had been shoved to the 
side less than one inch, but that little bit had saved it. 
It was filled with water, though, and all the pictures 
were on the unfinished roll in the camera, and were ruined. 
We had been in the ice-cold water long enough to lose 
that glow which comes after a quick immersion and were 
chilled through ; but what bothered me more than any- 
thing else was the fact that I had been caught in such a 
trap after successfully running the bad rapids above. 
We made a short run after that so as to get out of sight 
of the deceptive place, then proceeded to dry out. The 
ruined film came in handy for kindling our camp-fire. 

We were now in the narrowest part of the upper por- 
tion of the Grand Canyon, the distance from rim to rim 
at one point being close to six miles. The width at 
Bright Angel varied from eight to fourteen miles. The 
peaks rising from the plateau, often as high as the canyon 
walls, and with flat tops a mile or more in width, made 
the canyon even narrower, so that at times we were in 
canyons close to a mile in depth, and little over four 
miles across at the tops. 



ONE MONTH LATER 229 

In this section of the granite there were few places 
where one could climb out. Nearly all the lateral can- 
yons ended quite a distance above the river, then fell 
sheer ; the lower parts of the walls were quite often smooth- 
surfaced, where they were polished by the sands in the 
stream. The black granite in such cases resembled huge 
deposits of anthracite coal. Sections of the granite 
often projected out of the water as islands, with the softer 
rock washed away, the granite being curiously carved 
by whirling rocks and the emery-like sands. Holes 
three and four feet deep were worn by small whirling 
rocks, and grooves were worn at one place by growing 
willows working back and forth in the water, the sand, 
strange to say, having less effect on the limbs than it had 
on the hard rocks. 

About noon of the day following this upset we reached 
the end of the Bass Trail and another cable crossing, 
about sixty feet above the water. Three men were 
waiting for us, and gave a call when we rowed in sight 
of their camp. One was Lauzon's brother, another was 
Cecil Dodd, a cowboy who looked after Bass' stock, 
and the breaking of his horses, the third was John Nor- 
berg, an *'old timer" and an old friend as well, engaged 
at that time in working some asbestos and copper claims. 

The granite was broken down at this point, and 
another small deposit of algonkian was found here. 
There were intrusions, faults, and displacements both 



230 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

in these formations and in the layers above. These 
fractures exposed mineral seams and deposits of copper 
and asbestos on both sides of the river, some of which 
Bass had opened up and located, waiting for the day 
when there would be better transportation facilities 
than his burros afforded. 

This was not our first visit to this section. On other 
occasions we had descended by the Mystic Spring (or 
Bass) Trail, on the south side, crossed on the tramway, 
and were taken by Bass over some of his many trails, 
on the north side. We had visited the asbestos claims, 
where the edge of a blanket formation of the rock known 
as serpentine, containing the asbestos, lay exposed to 
view, twisting around the head of narrow canyons, and 
under beetling cliffs. We went halfway up the north 
rim trail, through Shinumo and White canyons, our 
objective point on these trips being a narrow box canyon 
which contained a large boulder, rolled from the walls 
above, and wedged in the flume-like gorge far above 
our heads. This trail continues up to the top, going over 
the narrow neck which connects Powell's Plateau — a 
segregated section of thickly wooded surface several 
miles in extent — with the main extent of the Kaibab 
Plateau. 

Ernest, though slightly affected with tonsillitis, was 
loath to leave us here. It was zero weather on top, we 
were told, and it looked it. The walls and peaks were 



ONE MONTH LATER 23 1 

white with snow. He would not have an easy trip. 
The drifted snow was only broken by the one party that 
we found at the river, and quite likely it would be very 
late when he arrived at the ranch. John went up with 
him a few miles to get a horse for the ride home the next 
day. Ernest took with him a few hurriedly written 
letters and the exposed plates. The film we were going 
to save was lost in the upset. 

On inspecting the provisions which were packed in 
here we found the grocers had shipped the order short, 
omitting, besides other necessities, some canned baked 
beans, on which we depended a great deal. This meant 
one of two things. We would have to make a quicker 
run than we had planned on, or would have to get out of 
the canyon at one of the two places where such an exit 
could easily be made. 

The M. P. as our motion-picture camera was called 
— and which was re-christened but not abbreviated by 
Bert, as "The Member of Parliament" — had to be 
cleaned before we could proceed. It took all this day, 
and much of the next, to get the moisture and sand out 
of the delicate mechanism, and have it running smoothly 
again. After it was once more in good condition Emery 
announced that he wanted to work out a few scenes of 
an uncompleted " movie-drama." The action was snappy. 
The plot was brief, but harmonized well with the 
setting, and the "props." Dodd, who was a big Texan, 



232 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

was cast for the role of horse thief and bad man in 
general. Bert's brother, Morris Lauzon, was the deputy 
sheriff, and had a star cut from the top of a tomato 
can to prove it. John was to be a prospector. He 
would need little rehearsing for this part. In addition, 
he had not been out where he could have the services of 
a barber for six months past, which was all the better. 
John had a kind, quiet, easy-going way that made friends 
for him on sight. He was not consulted about the part 
he was to play, but we counted on his good nature 
and he was cast for the part. Emery, who was cast for 
the part of a mining engineer, arrived on the scene in his 
boat, after rounding the bend above the camp, tied up 
and climbed out over the cliffs to view the surrounding 
country. 

The hidden desperado, knowing that he was being 
hunted, stole the boat with its contents, and made his 
escape. The returning engineer arrived just in time to 
see his boat in the middle of the stream, and a levelled 
rifle halted him until the boat was hidden around the 
bend. At that moment the officer joined him, and a 
hurried consultation was held. Then the other boat, 
which had been separated from its companion, pulled 
into sight, and I was hailed by the men on shore. They 
came aboard and we gave chase. Could anything be 
better ? The thief naturally thought he was safe, as he 
had not seen the second boat ! After going over a few 



ONE MONTH LATER 233 

rapids, he saw a fire up In the cliffs, on the opposite side of 
the river. He landed, and climbed up to the camp where 
John was at work. John shared his camp fare with him, 
and directed him to a hidden trail. The pursuers, on 
finding the abandoned boat, quietly followed the trail, 
and surprised Dodd in John's camp. He was disarmed 
and sent across the river in the tramway, accompanied 
by the deputy, and was punished as he richly deserved 
to be. 

This was the scenario. Bert handled the camera. 
Emery was the playwright, director, and producer. All 
rights reserved. 

Everything worked beautifully. The film did not 
get balled up in the cogs, as sometimes happened. The 
light was good. Belasco himself could not have improved 
on the stage-setting. The trail led over the wildest, 
and most picturesque places imaginable. Dodd made 
a splendid desperado, and acted as if he had done nothing 
but steal horses and dodge the officers all his life. A pile 
of driftwood fifty feet high and with a tunnel underneath 
made a splendid hiding place for him while the first boat 
was being tied. Being a cowpuncher, it may be that 
he did not handle the oars as well as an experienced river- 
man, but any rapid could be used for an Insert. The 
deputy, though youthful, was determined and never 
lost sight of the trail. The engineer acted his part well 
and registered surprise and anger, when he found how 



234 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

he had been tricked. John, who had returned, humoured 
us, and dug nuggets of gold out of limestone rocks, where 
no one would have thought of looking for them. The 
fact that the tramway scene was made before any of the 
others did not matter. We could play our last act first 
if we wanted to. All we had to do was to cut the film 
and fasten it on to the end. Emery was justly proud of 
his first efforts as a producer. We were sorry this film 
had not been sent out with Ernest. 

This thrilling drama will not be released in the near 
future. One day later we found that a drop of water 
had worked into the lens cell at the last upset. This 
fogged the lens. We focussed with a scale and had over- 
looked the lens when cleaning the camera. Nothing 
but a very faint outline showed on the film. We had 
all the film we needed for a week after this, for kindling 
our fires. 



CHAPTER XXI 

WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT 

In recording our various mishaps and upsets In these 
pages, It may seem to the reader as if I have given undue 
prominence to the part I took in them. If so, it has not 
been from choice, but because they happened In that 
way. No doubt a great deal of my trouble was due to 
carelessness. After I had learned to row my boat fairly 
well I sometimes took chances that proved to be any- 
thing but advisable, depending a good deal on luck, and 
luck was not always with me. My brother was less 
hasty In making his decisions, and was more careful In 
his movements, with the result that his boat had few 
marks of any kind, and he had been more fortunate than 
I with the rapids. 

It Is my duty to record another adventure at this 
point, in which we all three shared, each in a different 
manner. This time I am going to give my brother's 
record of the happenings that overtook us about four 
o'clock in the afternoon of December the 24th, less than 
three hours after we left our friends at the Bass Trail 

23s 



236 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

with "best wishes for a Merry Christmas," and had 
received instructions from John "to keep our feet dry." 

My brother's account follows : 

"The fourth rapid below the Bass Trail was bad, 
but after looking it over we decided it could be run. We 
had taken chances in rapids that looked worse and 
came through unharmed ; if we were successful here, it 
would be over in a few minutes, and forgotten an hour 
later. So we each made the attempt." 

" Lauzon had gone near the lower end of the rapid, 
taking the left shore, for a sixty-foot wall with a sloping 
bench on top rose sheer out of the water on the right. 
The only shore on the right was close to the head of the 
rapid, a small deposit or bank of earth and rock. The 
inner gorge here was about nine hundred feet deep." 

"Ellsworth went first, taking the left-hand side. I 
picked out a course on the right as being the least dan- 
gerous ; but I was scarcely started when I found myself 
on a nest of jagged rocks, with violent water all about 
me, and with other rocks, some of them submerged, 
below me. I climbed out on the rocks and held the 
boat." 

"If the others could land below the rapid and climb 
back, they might get a rope to me and pull me oif the 
rocks far enough to give me a new start, but they could 
not pull the boat in to shore through the rough water. 
A person thinks quickly under such circumstances, and 



WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT 237 

I had it all figured out as soon as I was on the rocks. 
The greatest trouble would be to hold the boat if she 
broke loose." 

"Then I saw that the Defiance was in trouble. She 
was caught in a reverse whirl in the very middle of the 
pounding rapid, bouncing back and forth like a great 
rubber ball. Finally she filled with the splashing water, 
sank low, and the water pouring over the rock caught 
the edge of the twelve-hundred pound boat and turned 
her over as if she were a toy ; my brother was holding to 
the gunwale when she turned. Still she was held in the 
whirl, jumping as violently as ever, then turned upright 
again and was forced out. Ellsworth had disappeared, 
but came up nearly a hundred feet below, struggling to 
keep on top but going down with every breaking wave. 
When the quieter water was reached, he did not seem to 
have strength enough to swim out, but floated, motion- 
less, in a standing position, his head kept up by the life- 
preservers. The next rapid was not over fifty yards 
below. If he was to be saved it must be done instantly." 

"I pried the boat loose, jumped in as she swung clear, 
and pulled with all my might, headed toward the centre 
of the river. I was almost clear when I was drawn over 
a dip, bow first, and struck a glancing blow against 
another rock I had never seen. There was a crash, and 
the boards broke like egg-shells. It was all done in a 
few moments. The Edith was a wreck, I did not know 



238 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

how bad. My brother had disappeared. Lauzon was 
frantically climbing over some large boulders, trying to 
reach the head of the next rapid, where the boat was 
held in an eddy. My boat was not upset, but the waves 
were surging through a great hole in her side. She was 
drawn into an eddy, close to the base of the wall, where 
I could tie up and climb out. It seemed folly to try 
the lower end with my filled boat. Climbing to the 
top of the rock, I could see half a mile down the 
canyon, but my brother was nowhere to be seen and I 
had no idea that he had escaped. I was returning to 
my wrecked boat when Bert waved his arms, and pointed 
to the head of the rapid. Going back once more, I saw 
him directly below me at the base of the sheer rock, in an 
opening where the wall receded. He had crawled out 
twenty feet above the next rapid. Returning to my 
wrecked boat, I was soon beside him. He was exhausted 
with his struggle in the icy waves ; his outer garments 
were frozen. I soon procured blankets from my bed, 
removed the wet clothes, and wrapped him up. Lau- 
zon, true to our expectations of what he would do 
when the test came, swam out and rescued the Defiance 
before she was carried over the next rapid. He was 
inexperienced at the oars and had less than two hours 
practice after he had joined us. It was a tense moment 
when he started across, above the rapid. But he made 
it! Landing with a big grin, he exclaimed, 'Young 



WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT 239 

fellows, business Is picking up !' then added, 'And we're 
losing lots of good pictures ! ' " 

" These experiences wxre our Christmas presents that 
year. They were not done up in small packages." 

" We repaired the boat on Christmas day. Three 
smashed side ribs were replaced with mesqulte, which 
we found growing on the walls. The hole was patched 
with boards from the loose bottom. This was painted ; 
canvas was tacked over that and painted also, and a sheet 
of tin or galvanized iron went over it all. This completed 
the repair and the Edith was as seaworthy as before." 

This is Emery's account of the "Christmas Rapid." 

I will add that the freezing temperature of the water 
and the struggle for breath in the breaking waves left 
me exhausted and at the mercy of the river. An eddy 
drew me out of the centre of the stream when I had 
given up all hope of any escape from the next rapid. I 
had seen my brother on the rock below the head of the 
rapid and knew there was no hope from him. As I was 
being drawn back into the current, close to the end of 
the sheer wall on the right, my feet struck bottom on some 
debris washed down from the cllif. I made three efforts 
to stand but fell each time, and finally crawled out on 
my hands and knees. I had the peculiar sensation of 
seeing a rain-storm descending before my eyes, although 
I knew no such thing existed ; every fibre in my body 
ached and continued to do so for days afterward ; and 



240 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

the moment I would close my eyes to sleep I would see 
mountainous waves about me and would feel myself 
being whirled head over heels just as I was in that rapid ; 
but this rapid, strange to say, while exceedingly rough 
and swift, did not contain any waves that we would 
have considered large up to this time. In other words, 
it depended on the circumstances whether it was bad or 
not. When standing on the shore, picking a channel, 
it appeared to be a moderately bad rapid, in which a 
person, aided with life-preservers, should have little 
difficulty in keeping on top, at least half the time. After 
my battle, in which, as far as personal effort went, I had 
lost, and after my providential escape, that one rapid 
appeared to be the largest of the entire series. 

It is difficult to describe the rapids with the foot-rule 
standard, and give an idea of their power. One un- 
familiar with "white water" usually associates a twelve- 
foot descent or a ten-foot wave with a similar wave on 
the ocean. There is no comparison. The waters of the 
ocean rise and fall, the waves travel, the water itself, 
except in breakers, is comparatively still. In bad rapids 
the water is whirled through at the rate of ten or twelve 
miles an hour, in some cases much swifter ; the surface 
is broken by streams shooting up from every submerged 
rock ; the weight of the river is behind it, and the waves, 
instead of tumbling forward, quite as often break up- 
stream. Such waves, less than six feet high, are often 




THE BREAK IN THE "EDITH. 



Copyright by Kulb Bros. 




Copi/rigkl by Kolb Bros. 

MERRY CHRISTMAS! THE REPAIR WAS MADE WITH BILGE BOARDS, CANVAS, 

PAINT, AND TIN. 



WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT 241 

dangers to be shunned. After being overturned in them 
we learned their tremendous power, a power we would 
never have associated with any water, before such an 
experience, short of a waterfall. 

There is a certain amount of danger in the canyons, 
— plenty of it. Still, in most cases, with care and fore- 
thought, much of it can be avoided. We think we are 
safe in saying that half of the parties who have attempted 
a passage through these canyons have met with fatalities. 
Most of these have occurred in Cataract Canyon, not 
because it is any worse than other sections, — certainly 
no worse than the Grand Canyon, — but because it is 
easily entered from the quiet, alluring water of the lower 
Green River. Without a doubt each successful expedi- 
tion is responsible in a way for others' attempts. In 
nearly every instance the unfortunate ones have under- 
estimated the danger, and have attempted the passage 
with inadequate boats, such as Smith had for instance, 
undecked and without air chambers. Both of these are 
imperative for safety. 

We had the benefit of the experiences of others. In 
addition, our years of work in the canyons had robbed 
them of their imaginary dangers, and — while we trust 
that we are not entirely without imagination — much of 
their weirdness and glamour with which they are insep- 
arable to the idealist and the impressionist. Each of 
these upsets could have been avoided by a portage had we 



242 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

desired to make one, but success In other rapids made us 
a little reckless and ready to take a chance. 

Beyond getting our flour wet on the outside, we suf- 
fered very little loss to our cargo. We placed the two 
flour sacks beside the fires each evening, until the wet 
flour dried to a crust. We continued to use out of the 
centre of the sacks as though nothing had ever hap- 
pened. 

Bert and I each had a little cough the next morning, 
but it disappeared by noon. Beyond that, we suffered 
no great inconvenience from our enforced bath. Sleep- 
ing in the open, with plenty of healthful exercise, kept us 
physically fit. 

The cold air and the cold water did not seem to bother 
the others, but I could not get comfortably warm during 
this cold snap. Added to this, it took me some time to 
get over my scare, and I could see all kinds of danger, 
in rapids, where Emery could see none. I insisted on 
untying the photographic cases from the boats, and 
carrying them around a number of rapids before we ran 
them. It is hardly necessary to say that no upset oc- 
curred in these rapids. 

Then came a cold day, with a raw wind sweeping up 
the river. A coating of ice covered the boats and the 
oars. We had turned directly to the north along the 
base of Powell's plateau, and were nearing the end of a 
second granite gorge, with violent rapids and jagged 



WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT 243 

rocks. Emery made the remark that he had not had 
a swim for some time. In a half-hour we came to a 
rapid with two twelve-foot waves in the centre of the 
stream, with a projecting point above that would have 
to be passed, before we could pull out of the swift-running 
centre. Emery got his swim there. I was just behind 
and was more fortunate. I never saw anything more 
quickly done. Before the boat was fully overturned 
he swung an oar, so that it stuck out at an angle from 
the side of the boat, and used the oar for a step ; an in- 
stant later he had cut the oar loose, and steered toward 
the shore. Bert threw him a rope from the shore, and 
he was pulled in. He was wearing a thin rubber coat 
fitting tightly about his wrists, tied about his neck, and 
belted at the waist. This protected him so thoroughly 
that he was only wet from the waist down. 

If we were a little inclined to be proud of our record 
above Bright Angel we had forgotten all about it by this 
time. We were scarcely more than sixty miles from home 
and had experienced three upsets and a smashed boat, 
all in one week. 

Just at the end of the second granite section we made 
our first portage since leaving Bright Angel. Bert and 
I worked on the boats, while Emery cooked the evening 
meal. 

Hot rice soup, flavoured with a can of prepared meat, 
was easily and quickly prepared, and formed one of the 



244 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

usual dishes at these meals. It contained a lot of nu- 
triment, and the rice took up but little space in the boats. 
Sometimes the meat was omitted, and raisins were sub- 
stituted. Prepared baked beans were a staple dish, 
but were not in our supply on this last part of the trip. 
We often made "hot cakes" twice a day; an excuse for 
eating a great deal of butter and honey, or syrup. None 
of these things were luxuries. They were the best food- 
stuff we could carry. We seemed to crave sweet stuff, 
and used quantities of sugar. We could carry eggs, 
when packed in sawdust, without trouble but did not 
carry many. We had little meat ; what we had was 
bacon, and prepared meats of the lunch variety. Cheese 
was our main substitute for meat. It was easily carried 
and kept well. Dried peaches or apricots were on the 
bill for nearly every meal, each day's allowance being 
cooked the evening before. We tried several condensed 
or emergency foods, but discarded them all but one, 
for various reasons. The exception was Erbeswurst, a 
patent dried soup preparation. Other prepared soups 
were carried also. I must not forget the morning cereal. 
It was Cream of Wheat, easily prepared ; eaten — 
not served, perhaps devoured would be a better word — 
with sugar and condensed cream, as long as it lasted, 
then with butter. Any remainder from breakfast was 
fried for other meals. Each evening, we would make 
some baking-powder biscuit in a frying-pan. A Dutch 



WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT 245 

oven is better, but had too much weight. The appella- 
tion for such bread is "flapjack" or "dough-god." When 
I did the baking they were fearfully and wonderfully 
made. Cocoa, which was nourishing, often took the 
place of coffee. In fact our systems craved just what 
was most needed to build up muscle and create heat. 
We found it was useless to try to catch fish after the 
weather became cold. The fish would not bite. 

On the upper end of our journey we carried no to- 
bacco, as it happened that Jimmy as well as ourselves 
were not tobacco users. There were no alcoholic stimu- 
lants. When Bert joined us, a small flask, for medicinal 
purposes only, was taken along. The whiskey was 
scarcely touched at this time. Bert enjoyed a pipe after 
his meals, but continued to keep good-natured even 
when his tobacco got wet, so tobacco was not absolutely 
necessary to him. 

Uninteresting and unromantic these things may be, 
but they were most important to us. We were only 
sorry the supply was not larger. While we never stinted 
ourselves, or cut the allowance of food, the amount was 
growing smaller every day, and it was not a question 
any more whether we would go out or not, to get pro- 
visions, to "rustle" as Bert called it, but where we would 
go out. We might go up Cataract Creek or Ha Va Su 
Creek, as it is sometimes called. We had been to the 
mouth of this canyon on foot, so there would be no dan- 



246 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

ger of missing it. The Ha Va Supai Indians, about two 
hundred in number, lived in this lateral canyon, about 
seven or eight miles from the river. An agent and a 
farmer lived with them, and might be able to sell us some 
provisions ; if not, it would be fifty miles back to our 
home. The trail was much more direct than the river. 
The great drawback to this course was the fact that Ha 
Va Su Canyon, sheer-walled, deep, and narrow, contained 
a number of waterfalls, one of them about 175 feet high. 
The precipice over which it fell was nothing but a mineral 
deposit from the water, building higher every year. 
Formerly this was impassable, until some miners, after 
enlarging a sloping cave, had cut a winding stairway in 
it, which allowed a descent to be made to the bottom of 
the fall. A recent storm had remodelled all the falls in 
Cataract Creek Canyon, cutting out the travertine in 
some places, piling it up in others. A great mass of 
Cottonwood trees were also mixed with the debris. The 
village, too, had been washed away and was then being 
rebuilt. We had been told that the tunnel was filled up, 
and as far as we knew no one had been to the river since 
the flood. 

The other outlet was Diamond Creek Canyon, much 
farther down the river. We would decide when we got 
to Ha Va Su just what we would do. 

Tapeets Creek, one mile below our camp, — a stream 
which has masqueraded under the title of Thunder 



WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT 247 

River, and about which there has been considerable 
speculation, — proved to be a stream a little smaller than 
Bright Angel Creek, flowing through a narrow slot in 
the rocks, and did not fall sheer into the river, as has 
been reported. Perhaps a small cascade known as Sur- 
prise Falls which we passed the next day has been con- 
fused with Tapeets Creek. This stream corkscrews down 
through a narrow crevice and falls about two hundred 
feet, close to the river's edge. We are told that the upper 
end of Tapeets Creek is similar to this, but on a much 
larger scale. 

Just opposite this fall a big mountain-sheep jumped 
from under an overhanging ledge close to the water, and 
stared curiously at us, as though he wondered what 
strange things those were coming down with the current. 
It is doubtful if he ever saw a human being before. This 
sight sent us scrambling in our cases for cameras and 
firearms ; and it was not the game laws, but a rusted 
trigger on the six-shooter instead, that saved the sheep. 
He finally took alarm and scampered away over the rocks, 
and we had no mutton stew that night. 

We had one night of heavy rain, and morning revealed 
a little snow within three hundred feet of the river, while 
a heavy white blanket covered the upper cliffs. It con- 
tinued to snow on top, and rained on us nearly all this 
day. Emery took this opportunity to get the drop of 
moisture out of the lens, and put the camera in such shape 



248 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

that we could proceed with our picture making. A 
short run was made after this work was completed. 

The camp we were just leaving was about three miles 
above Kanab Canyon. The granite was behind us, 
disappearing with a steep descent much as it had emerged 
at the Hance Trail. There was also a small deposit of 
algonkian. This too had been passed, and we were back 
in the limestone and sandstone walls similar to the lower 
end of Marble Canyon. While the formations were the 
same, the canyon differed. The layers were thicker, 
the red sandstone and the marble walls were equally 
sheer; there was no plateau between. What plateau 
this canyon contained lay on top of the red sandstone. 
Few peaks rose above this. The canyon had completed 
its northern run and was turning back again to the west- 
southwest with a great sweep or circle. Less than an 
hour's work brought us to Kanab Canyon. 




PULLING CLEAR OF A ROCK. 



Copyright Oy Kulo Bros. 




A SHOWER BATH. 



Copyright by Kolb Bros. 



CHAPTER XXII 

SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 

In the mud at Kanab Canyon we saw an old foot- 
print of some person who had come down to the river 
through this narrow, gloomy gorge. It was here that 
Major Powell terminated his second voyage, on account 
of extreme high water. A picture they made showed 
their boats floated up in this side canyon. Our stage 
was much lower than this. F. S. Dellenbaugh, the 
author of "A Canyon Voyage," was a member of this 
second expedition. This book had been our guide down 
to this point ; we could not have asked for a better 
one. Below here we had a general idea of the nature of 
the river, and had a set of the government maps, but we 
had neglected to provide ourselves with detailed infor- 
mation such as this volume gave us. 

Evening of the following day found us at Cataract 
Creek Canyon, but with a stage of water in the river 
nearly fifty feet lower than that which we had seen a 
few years before. The narrow entrance of this great 

canyon gives no hint of what it Is like a few miles above. 

249 



250 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

The Indian village Is In the bottom of a 3000-foot 
canyon, half a mile wide and three miles long, covered 
with fertile fields, peach and apricot orchards. It even 
contained a few fig trees. Below the village the canyon 
narrowed to a hundred yards, with a level bottom, cov- 
ered with a tangle of wild grape vines, cactus, and 
Cottonwood trees. This section contained the two larg- 
est falls, and came to an end about four miles below the 
first fall. Then the canyon narrowed, deep and gloomy, 
until there was little room for anything but the powerful, 
rapidly descending stream. At the lower end it was often 
waist deep and fifteen or twenty feet wide. It was no 
easy task to go through this gorge. The stream had to 
be crossed several times. The canyon terminated In an 
extremely narrow gorge 2500 feet deep, dark and gloomy, 
one of the most impressive gorges we have ever seen. The 
main canyon was similar, with a few breaks on the sides, 
those breaks being ledges, or narrow sloping benches that 
would extend for miles, only to be brought to an abrupt 
end by side canyons. There are many mountain-sheep 
in this section, but we saw none either time. We could 
see many fresh tracks where they had followed these 
ledges around, and had gone up the narrow side canyon. 
It was cold In the main canyon, and no doubt the sheep 
could be found on the plateaus, which were more open, 
and would get sun when the sun shone. This plateau 
was 2500 feet above us. At the turn of the canyon we 




Copyright by Kolb Bros. 

GR\ND CANYON AT MOUTH OF HA VA SU CANYON. MEDIUM HIGH WATER. 
NOTE FIGURE. FRONTISPIECE SHOWS SAME PLACE IN LOW WATER. 



SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 25 1 

could see the other walls 2000 feet above that. The 
rapids in the section just passed had been widely sep- 
arated and compared well with those of Marble Canyon, 
not the worst we had seen, but far from being tame. 
There was plenty of shore room at each of these rapids. 
Cactus of different species was now a feature of the 
scenery. The ocotilla or candlewood with long, lash-like 
stalks springing from a common centre — that cactus, 
which, when dried, needs only a lighted match to set it 
afire — flourishes in the rocky ledges. A species of small 
barrel-cactus about the size of a man's head, with fluted 
sides, or symmetrical vertical rows of small thorned lumps 
converging at the top of the "nigger-head," as they are 
sometimes called, grows in great numbers in crevices on 
the walls. The delicate " pin cushion" gathered in 
clusters of myriad small spiny balls. The prickly pear, 
here in Ha Va Su Canyon, were not the starved, shrivelled, 
mineral-tinted cactus such as we found at the beginning 
of our trip. Instead they were green and flourishing, 
with large fleshy leaves joining on to each other until 
they rise to a height of three feet or more and cover large 
patches of ground to the utter exclusion of all other 
growth. What a display of yellow and red these desert 
plants put forth when they are in bloom ! A previous 
visit to Ha Va Su was made in the month of May when 
every group of prickly pear was a riot of pure colour. All 
this prolific growth is made possible by the extreme heat 



252 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

of the summer months aided in the case of those plants 
and trees which flourish in the fertile soil of Ha Va Su 
by the sub-irrigation and the spray from the fall. 

After making an inventory of our provisions we 
concluded not to try the tedious and uncertain trip up 
Cataract Creek. With care and good fortune we would 
have enough provisions to last us to Diamond Creek. 

With our run the next day the inner gorge continued 
to deepen, the walls drew closer together, so that we 
now had a narrow gorge hemming us in with 3000-foot 
walls from which there was no escape. They were about 
a fourth of a mile apart at the top. A boat at the foot 
of one of these walls was merely an atom. The total 
depth of the canyon was close to 4500 feet. There is 
nothing on earth to which this gorge can be compared. 
Storm-clouds lowered into the chasm in the early morning. 
The sky was overcast and threatening. We were travel- 
ling directly west again, and no sunlight entered here, 
even when the sun shone. The walls had lost their 
brighter reds, and what colour they had was dark and 
sombre, a dirty brown and dark green predominating. 
The mythology of the ancients, with their Inferno and 
their River Styx, could hardly conjure anything more 
supernatural or impressive than this gloomy gorge. 

There were a few bad rapids. One or two had no 
shore, others had an inclination to run under one wall, 
and had to be run very carefully. If we could not get 



SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 253 

down alongside of a rapid, we could usually climb out on 
the walls at the head of the rapid and look it over from 
that vantage point. The one who climbed out would 
signal directions to the others, who would run it at once, 
and continue on to the next rapid. They would have its 
course figured out when the last boat arrived. 

One canyon entered from the left, level on the bottom, 
and about one hundred feet wide ; it might be a means 
of outlet from this canyon, but it is doubtful, for the 
marble has a way of ending abruptly and dropping sheer, 
with a polished surface that is impossible to climb. 

New Year's Eve was spent in this section. The camp 
was exceptionally good. A square-sided, oblong section 
of rock about fifty feet long had fallen forward from the 
base of the cliff. This left a cave-like opening which was 
closed at one end with our dark-room tent. High water 
had placed a sandy floor, now thoroughly dry, in the 
bottom. Under the circumstances we could hardly ask 
for anything better. Of driftwood there was none, 
and our camp-fires were made of mesquite which grew in 
ledges in the rocks ; in one case gathered with a great 
deal of labour on the shore opposite our camp, and ferried 
across on our boats. If a suitable camp was found after 
3.30 P.M., we kept it, rather than run the risk of not find- 
ing another until after dark. 

Another day, January i, 191 2, brought us to the end of 
this gorge and into a wider and more open canyon, with 



254 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

the country above covered with volcanic peaks and 
cinder cones. Blow-holes had broken through the can- 
yon walls close to the top of the gorge, pouring streams of 
lava down its sides, filling the bottom of the canyon with 
several hundred feet of lava. This condition extended 
down the canyon for twenty miles or more. Judging 
by the amount of lava the eruption must have continued 
for a great while. Could one imagine a more wonderful 
sight — the turbulent stream checked by the fire flood 
from above ! What explosions and rending of rocks 
there must have been when the two elements met. The 
river would be backed up for a hundred miles ! Each 
would be shoved on from behind ! There was no escape ! 
They must fight it out until one or the other conquered. 
But the fire could not keep up forever, and, though tri- 
umphant for a period, it finally succumbed, and the stream 
proceeded to cut down to the original level. 

Two miles below the first lava flow we saw what we 
took to be smoke and hurried down wondering if we would 
find a prospector or a cattle rustler. We agreed, if it was 
the latter, to let them oflt if they would share with us. 
But the smoke turned out to be warm springs, one of 
them making quite a stream which fell twenty feet into 
the river. Here in the river was a cataract, called Lava 
Falls, so filled with jagged pieces of the black rock that 
a portage was advisable. The weather had not moder- 
ated any in the last week, and we were in the water a 



SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 255 

great deal as we lifted and lined the boats over the rocks 
at the edge of the rapids. We would work in the water 
until numbed with the cold, then would go down to the 
warm springs and thaw out for a while. This was a little 
quicker than standing by the fire, but the relief was only 
temporary. This portage was finished the next morning. 

Another portage was made this same day, and the 
wide canyon where Major Powell found some Indian 
gardens was passed in the afternoon. The Indians were 
not at home when the Major called. His party felt 
they were justified in helping themselves to some pump- 
kins or squash, for their supplies were very low, and they 
could not go out to a settlement — as we expected to do 
in a day or two — and replenish them. 

We found the fish would not bite, just as our friend, 
the miner, had said, but we did succeed in landing a 
fourteen-pound salmon, in one of the deep pools not many 
miles from this point, and it was served up in steaks the 
next day. If our method of securing the salmon was 
unsportsmanlike, we excused ourselves for the methods 
used, just as Major Powell justified his appropriation of 
the Indians' squash. If that fish was ever needed, it 
was then, and it was a most welcome addition to our 
rapidly disappearing stock of provisions. We were only 
sorry we had not taken more *'bait." 

The next day we did see a camp-fire, and on climbing 
the shore, found a little old prospector, clad in tattered 



256 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

garments, sitting in a little dugout about five feet square, 
which he had shovelled out of the sand. He had roofed 
it with mesquite and an old blanket. A rapid, just below, 
made so much noise that he did not hear us until we were 
before his door. He looked at the rubber coats and the 
life-preservers, then said, with a matter-of-fact drawl, 
"Well, you fellows must have come by the river !" After 
talking awhile he asked : 

"What do you call yourselves .^" This question 
would identify him as an old-time Westerner if we did 
not already know it. At one time it was not considered 
discreet to ask any one in these parts what their name 
was, or where they were from. He gave us a great deal 
of information about the country, and said that Diamond 
Creek was about six miles below. He had come across 
from Diamond Creek by a trail over a thousand foot 
ridge, with a burro and a pack mule, a month before. 
He had just been out near the top on the opposite side, 
doing some assessment work on some copper claims, 
crossing the river on a raft, and stated that on a previous 
occasion he had been drawn over the rapid, but got out. 

When he learned that we had come through Utah, he 
stated that he belonged near Vernal, and had once been 
upset in the upper canyons, about twenty years before. 
He proved to be the Snyder of whom we had heard at 
Linwood, and also from the Chews, who had given him a 
horse so he could get out over the mountains. Yet here 



SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 257 

he was, a thousand miles below, cheerful as a cricket, 
and sure that a few months at the most would bring him 
unlimited wealth. He asked us to "share his chuck" 
with him, but we could see nothing but a very little flour, 
and a little bacon, so pleaded haste and pushed on for 
Diamond Creek. 

The mouth of this canyon did not look unlike others 
we had seen in this section, and one could easily pass it 
without knowing that it ran back with a gentle slope for 
twenty miles, and that a wagon road came down close 
to the river. It contained a small, clear stream. The 
original tourist camp in the Grand Canyon was located up 
this canyon. We packed all our plates and films, ready 
to take them out. The supplies left in the boats when 
we went out the next morning were : 

5 pounds of flour, partly wet and crusted. 

2 pounds mildewed Cream of Wheat. 

3 or 4 cans (rusty) of dried beef. 
Less than one pound of sugar. 

We carried a lunch out with us. This was running 
a little too close for comfort. 

The mouth of Diamond Creek Canyon was covered 
with a growth of large mesquite trees. Cattle trails 
wound through this thorny thicket down to the river's 
edge. The trees thinned out a short distance back, and 
the canyon widened as it receded from the river. A half 
mile back from the river was the old slab building that 



258 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

had served as headquarters for the campers. Here the 
canyon divided, one containing the small stream heading 
in the high walls to the southeast ; while the other branch 
ran directly south, heading near the railroad at the little 
flag-station of Peach Springs, twenty-three miles distant. 
It was flat-bottomed, growing wider and more valley- 
like with every mile, but not especially interesting to 
one who had seen the glory of all the canyons. Floods 
had spoiled what had once been a very passable stage 
road, dropping 4000 feet in twenty miles, down to the 
very depths of the Grand Canyon. Some cattle, driven 
down by the snows, were sunning themselves near the 
building. Our appearance filled them with alarm, and 
they "high tailed it" to use a cattle man's expression, 
scampering up the rocky slopes. 

A deer's track was seen in a snow-drift away from the 
river. On the sloping walls in the more open sections of 
this valley grew the stubby-thorned chaparral. The hack- 
berry and the first specimens of the palo verde were found 
in this vicinity. The mesquite trees seen at the mouth 
of the canyon were real trees — about the size of a large 
apple tree — not the small bushes we had seen at the 
Little Colorado. All the growth was changing as we 
neared the lower altitudes and the mouth of the Grand 
Canyon, being that of the hot desert, which had found this 
artery or avenue leading to the heart of the rocky pla- 
teaus and had pushed its way into this foreign land. 



SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 259 

Even the animal life of the desert has followed this 
same road. Occasional Gila monsters, which are sup- 
posed to belong to the hot desert close to the Mexico line, 
have been found at Diamond Creek, and lizards of the 
Mojave Desert have been seen as far north as the foot of 
Bright Angel Trail. 

But we saw little animal life at this time. There were 
occasional otters disporting themselves near our boats, in 
one instance unafraid, in another raising a gray-bearded 
head near our boat with a startled look in his eyes. 
Then he turned and began to swim on the surface until 
our laughter caused him to dive. Tracks of the civet- 
cat or the ring-tailed cat — that large-eyed and large-eared 
animal, somewhat like a raccoon and much resembling a 
weasel — were often seen along the shores. The gray fox, 
the wild-cat, and the coyote, all natives of this land, kept 
to the higher pinon-covered hills. The beaver seldom 
penetrates into the deep canyons because of the lack of 
vegetation, but is found in all sections in the open coun- 
try from the headwaters to the delta in Mexico. 

We went out by this canyon on January the 5th, and 
returned Sunday, January the 8th, bringing enough pro- 
visions to last us to the end of the big canyon. We im- 
agined we would have no trouble getting what we needed 
in the open country below that. We sent some telegrams 
and received encouraging answers to them before re- 
turning. With us were two brothers, John and Will 



26o THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

Nelson, cattle men who had given us a cattle man's 
welcome when we arrived at Peach Springs. There was 
no store at Peach Springs, and they supplied us with the 
provisions that we brought back. They drove a wagon 
for about half the distance, then the roads became im- 
passable, so they unhitched and packed their bedding and 
our provisions in to the river. The Nelsons were anxious 
to see us run a rapid or two. 

We found the nights to be just as cold on top as they 
ever get in this section — a little below zero — although 
the midday sun was warm enough to melt the snow and 
make it slushy. I arrived at the river with my feet so 
swollen that I had difficulty in walking, a condition 
brought on by a previous freezing they had received, 
being wet continually by the icy water in my boat — 
which was leaking badly since we left Bright Angel — 
and the walk out through the slush. I was glad there was 
little walking to do when once at the river, and changed my 
shoes for arctics, which were more roomy and less painful. 

On the upper part of our trip there were occasional 
days when Emery was not feeling his best, while I had 
been most fortunate and had little complaint to make ; 
now things seemed to be reversed. Emery, and Bert 
too, were having the time of their lives, while I was 
"getting mine" in no small doses. ^ 

* While Major Powell was making his second voyage of exploration, another 
party was toiling up these canyons towing their boats from the precipitous shores. 



SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 26 1 

We had always imagined that the Grand Canyon 
lost its depth and impressiveness below Diamond Creek. 
We were to learn our mistake. The colour was missing, 
that was true, for the marble and sandstone walls were 
brown, dirty, or colourless, with few of the pleasing tones 
of the canyon found in the upper end. But it was still 
the Grand Canyon. We were in the granite again — 
granite just as deep as any we had seen above, it may 
have been a little deeper, and in most cases it was very 
sheer. There was very little plateau, the limestone and 
sandstone rose above that, just as they had above 
Kanab Canyon. The light-coloured walls could not be 
seen. 

Many of the rapids of this lower section were just as 

This party was under the leadership of Lieutenant Wheeler of theU. S. Army. The party 
was large, composed of twenty men, including a number of Mojave Indians, in the 
river expedition, while others were sent overland with supplies to the mouth of Diamond 
Creek. By almost superhuman effort they succeeded in getting their boats up the 
canyon as far as Diamond Creek. While there is no doubt that they reached this 
point, there were times when we could hardly believe it was possible when we saw 
the walls they would have to climb in this granite gorge. In some places there 
seemed to be no place less than five hundred feet above the river where they could 
secure a foothold. Their method was to carry a rope over these places, then pull the 
boats up through the rapids by main force. It would be just as easy to pull a heavy 
rowboat up the gorge of Niagara, as through some of these rapids. Their best plan, 
by far, would have been to haul their boats in at Diamond Creek and make the descent, 
as they did after reaching this point. The only advantage their method gave them was 
a knowledge of what they would meet with on the downstream run. Lieutenant Wheeler 
professed to disbelieve that Major Powell had descended below Diamond Creek, and 
called his voyage the completion of the exploration of the Colorado River. In a four 
days' run they succeeded in covering the same distance that had taken four weeks of 
endless toil, to bring their boats up to this point. 



262 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

bad as any we had gone over ; one or two have been con- 
sidered worse by different parties. Two hours after 
leaving the Nelsons we were halted by a rapid that made 
us catch our breath. It was in two sections — the lower 
one so full of jagged rocks that it meant a wrecked boat. 
The upper part fell about twenty feet we should judge 
and was bad enough. It was a question if we could 
run this and keep from going over the lower part. If we 
made a portage, our boats would have to be taken three 
or four hundred feet up the side of the cliff. The rapid 
was too strong to line a boat down. We concluded to 
risk running the first part. Bert climbed to the head 
of the second section of the rapid, where a projecting point 
of granite narrowed the stream, and formed a quiet eddy 
just above the foaming plunge. If we could keep out 
of the centre and land here we would be safe. Our shoes 
were removed, our trousers were rolled to our knees and 
we removed our coats. If we had to swim there, we 
were going to be prepared. The life-preservers were 
well inflated, and tied ; then we made the plunge, Emery 
taking the lead, I following close behind. Our plan was 
to keep as near the shore as possible. Once I thought 
it was all over when I saw the Edith pulled directly for a 
rock in spite of all Emery could do to pull away. Nothing 
but a rebounding wave saved him. I went through the 
same experience. Several times we were threatened 
with an upset, but we landed in safety. The portage 



SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 263 

was short and easy. Flat granite rocks were covered 
with a thin coat of ice. The boats were unloaded and 
slid across, then dropped below the projecting rock. The 
Defiance skidded less than two feet and struck a project- 
ing knob of rock the size of a goose tgg. It punctured the 
side close to the stern, fortunately above the water line, 
and the wood was not entirely broken away. 

Two miles below this we found another bad one. 
This was lined while Bert got supper up in a little sloping 
canyon ; about as uncomfortable a camp as we had found. 
Many of the rapids run the next day were violent. The 
river seemed to be trying to make up for lost time. We 
passed a canyon coming from the south containing two 
streams, one clear, and one muddy. The narrowest 
place we had seen on the river was a rapid run this day, 
not over forty feet wide. Evening brought us to a rapid 
with a lateral canyon coming in from each side, that on 
the right containing a muddy stream. The walls were 
sheer and jagged close to the rapid, with a break on the 
rugged slopes here and there. A sloping rock in the 
middle of the stream could be seen in the third section 
of the rapid. This was Separation Rapid, the point 
where the two Howland brothers and Dunn parted com- 
pany with Major Powell and his party. 

From our camp at the left side we could easily figure 
out a way to the upper plateau. Above that they would 
have a difficult climb as far as we could tell. That they 



264 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

did reach the top is well known. They met a tragic 
fate. The second day after getting out they were killed 
by some Indians — the Shewits Utes — who had treated 
them hospitably at first and provided them with some- 
thing to eat. That night a visiting Indian brought a 
tale of depredations committed by some miners against 
another section of their tribe. These men were believed 
to be the guilty parties, and they were ambushed the 
next morning. Their fate remained a mystery for a 
year ; then a Ute was seen with a watch belonging to one 
of the men. Later a Mormon who had a great deal of 
influence with the Indians got their story from them, 
and reported to Major Powell what he had learned. It 
was a deplorable and a tragic ending to what otherwise 
was one of the most successful, daring, and momentous 
explorations ever undertaken on this continent. 

We find there is a current belief that it was cowardice 
and fear of this one rapid that caused these men to sep- 
arate from the party. The more one hears of this sep- 
aration, the more it seems that it was a difference of 
opinion on many matters, and not this one rapid, that 
caused them to leave. These men had been trappers 
and hunters, one might say pioneers, and one had been 
with Major Powell before the river exploration. They 
had gone through all the canyons, and had come through 
this far without a fatality. They had seen a great many 
rapids nearly as bad as this, and several that were worse. 



SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 265 

if one could judge by Its nature when we found it. They 
were not being carried by others, but had charge of one 
boat. They did smash one boat in Disaster Rapid in 
Lodore Canyon, and at that time they claimed Major 
Powell gave them the wrong signal. This caused some 
feeling. 

At the time of the split, the food question was a serious 
one. There were short rations for a long time ; in fact 
there was practically no food. After an observation, 
Major Powell informed them that they were within forty- 
five miles of the Virgin River, in a direct line. Much 
of the country between the end of the canyon and the 
Virgin River was open, a few Mormon settlements 
could be found up the Virgin Valley. He offered them 
half of the small stock of provisions, when they per- 
sisted in leaving, but they refused to take any provisions 
whatever, feeling sure that they could kill enough game 
to subsist on. This one instance would seem to be 
enough to clear them of the stigma of cowardice. The 
country on top was covered with volcanic cinders. There 
was little water to be found, and in many ways it was 
just as inhospitable as the canyon. The cook had a 
pan of biscuits, which he left on a rock for them, after 
the men had helped the party lift the boats over the rocks 
at the head of the rapid. After landing in safety around 
a bend which hid them from sight, the boating party 
fired their guns, hoping they would hear the report, and 



266 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

follow In the abandoned boat. It is doubtful if they 
could hear the sound of the guns, above the roar of the 
rapid. If they did, they paid no attention to it. The 
younger Rowland wished to remain with the party, but 
threw his lot with his brother, when he withdrew. 

While these men did not have the Major's deep scien- 
tific interest in the successful completion of this explora- 
tion, they undoubtedly should have stayed with their 
leader, if their services were needed or desired. It is more 
than likely that they were insubordinate ; they certainly 
made a misguided attempt, but in spite of these facts it 
scarcely seems just to brand them as cowards. Two 
days after they left, the boating party was camped at the 
end of the canyons. 



CHAPTER XXIII 

THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS 

The first section of Separation Rapid was run the 
first thing in the morning, a manoeuvre that was accom- 
plished by starting on the left shore and crossing the 
swift centre clear to the other shore. This allowed us to 
reach some quiet water near a small deposit of rock and 
earth at the base of the sheer wall. Two feet of water 
would have covered this deposit ; likewise two feet of 
water would have given us a clear channel over this 
second section. As it was, the rapid was rough, with many 
rocks very near the surface. Directly across from us, 
close to the left shore, was what looked like a ten-foot 
geyser, or fountain of water. This was caused by a rock 
in the path of a strong current rebounding from the shore. 
The water ran up on the side near the wall, then fell on 
all sides. It was seldom the water had force enough to 
carry to the top of a rock as large as that. This portage 
of the second section was one of the easiest we had made. 
By rolling a few large rocks around we could get a stream 

of water across our small shore large enough to float an 

267 



268 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

empty boat with a little help, so we lightened them of the 
cargo and floated them through our canal. While run- 
ning the third section the Edith was carried up on the 
sloping rock in the middle of the stream ; she paused a 
moment, then came down like a shot and whirled around 
to the side without mishap. This made the thirteenth 
rapid in which both boats were lined or portaged. In 
three other rapids one boat was run through and one was 
portaged. Half of all these rapids were located in the 
Grand Canyon. 

All this time we were anxiously looking forward to a 
rapid which Mr. Stone had described as being the worst in 
the entire series, also thelast rapid wewouldbelikely to port- 
age and had informed us that below this particular rapid 
everything could be run with little or no inspection. Nat- 
urally we were anxious to get that rapid behind us. It was 
described as being located below a small stream flowing 
from the south. The same rapid was described by Major 
Powell as having a bold, lava-capped escarpment at the 
head of the rapid, on the right. We had not seen any 
lava since leaving Diamond Creek, and an entry in my 
notes reads, "we have gone over Stone's 'big rapid' three 
times and it is still ahead of us." The knowledge that 
there was a big rapid in the indefinite somewhere that 
was likely to cause us trouble seemed to give us more 
anxious moments than the many unmentioned rapids 
we were finding all this time. We wondered how high 



THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS 269 

the escarpment was, and if we could take our boats over 
its top. We tried to convince ourselves that it was 
behind us, although sure that it could not be. But the 
absence of lava puzzled us. After one "bad" rapid and 
several "good" rapids we came to a sharp turn in the 
canyon. Emery was ahead and called back, "I see a 
little stream"; Bert joined with "I see the lava"; and 
the "Bold Escarpment Rapid," as we had been calling 
it for some time, was before us. It was more than a nasty 
rapid, it was a cataract ! 

What a din that water sent up ! We had to yell to 
make ourselves heard. The air vibrated with the im- 
pact of water against rock. The rapid was nearly half a 
mile long. There were two sections near its head stag- 
gered with great rocks, forty of them, just above or 
slightly submerged under the surface of the water. Our 
low stage of water helped us, so that we did not have to 
line the boats from the ledge, eighty feet above the water, 
as others had done. The rapid broke just below the 
lower end of the sheer rock, which extended twenty feet 
beyond the irregular shore. The Edith went first, headed 
upstream, at a slight angle nearly touching the wall, 
dropping a few inches between each restraining stroke of 
the oars. Bert crouched on the bow, ready to spring 
with the rope, as soon as Emery passed the wall and 
headed her in below the wall. Jumping to the shore, he 
took a snub around a boulder and kept her from being 



270 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

dragged into the rapid. Then they both caught the 
Defiance as she swung in below the rock, and half the 
battle was won before we tackled the rapid. 

Our days were short, and we did not take the boats 
down until the next day ; but we did carry much of the 
camp material and cargo halfway down over ledges a 
hundred feet above the river. For a bad rapid we were 
very fortunate in getting past it as easily as we did. Logs 
were laid over rocks, the boats were skidded over them 
about their own length and dropped in again. Logs 
and boats were lined down in the swift, but less riotous 
water, to the next barrier, which was more difficult. A 
ten-foot rounded boulder lay close to the shore, with 
smaller rocks, smooth and ice-filmed, scattered between. 
Powerful currents swirled between these rocks and dis- 
appeared under two others, wedged closely together on 
top. Three times the logs were snatched from our grasp 
as we tried to bridge them across this current, and they 
vanished in the foam, to shoot out end first, twenty feet 
below and race away on the leaping water. A boat 
would be smashed to kindling-wood if once carried under 
there. At last we got our logs wedged, and an hour of 
tugging, in which only two men could take part at 
the same time, landed both boats in safety below this 
barrier. We shot the remainder of the rapid on water 
so swift that the oars were snatched from our hands if 
we tried to do more than keep the boats straight 



""^^^b^l^^ 





H. LAUZON. E. L. KOLB. CopvrigM by Kolb Btos. 
THE LAST PORTAGE. THE ROCKS WERE ICE-FILMED. NOTE POTHOLES. 



THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS 271 

with the current. That rapid was no longer the "Bold 
Escarpment," but the "Last Portage" instead, and it 
was behind us. 

The afternoon was half gone when we made ready 
to pull away from the Last Portage. There were other 
rapids, but scarcely a pause was made in our two-hour run, 
and we camped away from the roar of water. The 
canyon was widening out a little at a time ; the granite 
disappeared in the following day's run, at noon. Grass- 
covered slopes, with seeping mineral springs, took the 
place of precipitous walls ; they dropped to 2500 feet 
in height ; numerous side canyons cut the walls in regu- 
lar sections like gigantic city blocks, instead of an un- 
broken avenue. Small rapids continued to appear, 
there were a few small islands, and divided currents, so 
shallow they sometimes kept us guessing which one to 
take, but we continued to run them all without a pause. 
We would have run out of the canyon that day but for 
one thing. Five mountain-sheep were seen from our 
boats in one of the sloping grassy meadows above the 
river. We landed below, carried our cameras back, and 
spent half an hour in trying to see them again, but they 
had taken alarm. 

Placer claim locations and fresh burro tracks were 
seen in the sand at our last Grand Canyon camp, and a 
half mile below us we could see out into open country. 
We found the walls, or the end of the table-land, to be 



272 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

about two thousand feet high, with the canyon emerging 
at a sharp angle so that a narrow ridge, or "hogs-back," 
lay on the left side of the stream. Once out in the open, 
the walls were seen to be quite steep, but could be climbed 
to the top almost any place without trouble. Saturday, 
January the 13th, we were out of the canyon at last, and 
the towering walls, now friendly, now menacing, were 
behind us. Three hundred and sixty-five large rapids, 
and nearly twice as many small rapids, were behind us 
and the dream of ten years was an accomplished fact. 
But best of all, there were no tragedies or fatalities to 
record. Perhaps we did look a little the worse for wear, 
but a few days away from the river would repair all that. 
The boats had a bump here and there, besides the one 
big patch on the Edith; a little mending and a little 
caulking would put both the Edith and Defiance in first- 
class condition. 

There is little of interest to record of our 175-mile 
run to Needles, California. It was a land of desolation 
— an extension of the Mojave Desert on the south, and 
the alkaline flats and mineral mountains of Nevada on the 
north, of Death Valley and the Funeral Mountains of Califor- 
nia to the northwest — a burned-out land of grim-looking 
mountains extending north and south across our way ; a 
dried-out, washed-out, and wind-swept land of extensive 
flats and arroyos ; a land of rock and gravel cemented in 
marls and clay ; ungraced with any but the desert plants, — 



THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS 273 

cactus and thorny shrubs, — with little that was pleasing 
or attractive. A desert land it is true, but needing only 
the magic touch of water to transform much of it into a 
garden spot. Even as it was, a few months later it 
would be covered with the flaming blossoms of the desert 
growth, which seem to try to make amends in one or 
two short months for nearly a year of desolation. 

A wash ran along the base of the plateau from which 
we had emerged. An abandoned road and ferry showed 
that this had once been a well-travelled route. The 
stream had a good current and we pulled away, only 
stopping once to see the last of our plateau before a turn 
and deepening banks hid it from view. We wondered 
If the water ever dropped In a precipitous fall over the 
face of the wall and worked back, a little every year, as 
it does at Niagara. We could hardly doubt that there 
were some such falls back in the dim past when these 
canyons were being carved. 

In the middle of the afternoon we passed a ranch or 
a house with a little garden, occupied by two miners, 
who hailed us from the shore. A half-mile below was the 
Scanlon Ferry, a binding tie between Arizona, on the 
south and what was now Nevada, on the north, for we 
had reached the boundary line shortly after emerging 
from the canyon. We still travelled nearly directly west. 
The ferry was in charge of a Cornishman who also had 
as pretty a little ranch as one could expect to find In 



274 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

such an unlikely place. A purling stream of water, 
piped from somewhere up in the hills, had caused the 
transformation. The ranch was very homey with cattle 
and horses, sheep and hogs, dogs and cats, all sleek and 
contented-looking. The garden proved that this country 
had a warm climate, although we were not suffering from 
heat at that time. An effort was being made to grow 
some orange trees, but with little promise of success ; 
there were fig trees and date-palms, with frozen dates 
hanging on the branches, one effect of the coldest winter 
they had seen in this section. 

The rancher told us he could not sell us anything that 
had to be brought in, for it was seventy miles to the 
railroad, but we could look over such supplies as he had. 
It ended by his selling us a chicken, two dozen eggs, 
five pounds of honey, and ten pounds of flour, — all for 
$2.50. We did not leave until the next morning, then 
bought another jar of honey, for we had no sugar, and two- 
thirds of the first jar was eaten before we left the ferry. 

We pulled away in such a hurry the next morning 
that we forgot an axe that had been carried with us for 
the entire journey. A five-hour run brought us to the 
mouth of the Virgin River, a sand-bar a mile wide, and 
with a red-coloured stream little larger than Cataract 
Creek winding through it. We had once seen this stream 
near its head waters, a beautiful mountain creek, that 
seemed to bear no relation to this repulsive-looking stream 



THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS 275 

that entered from the north. A large, flat-topped, adobe 
building, apparently deserted, stood off at one side of the 
stream. This was the head of navigation for flat- 
bottomed steamboats that once plied between here 
and the towns on the lower end of the river. They 
carried supplies for small mines scattered through the 
mountains and took out cargoes of ore, and of rock salt 
which was mined back in Nevada. 

It was here at the Virgin River that Major Powell 
concluded his original voyage of exploration. Some of 
his men took the boats on down to Fort Mojave, a few 
miles above Needles ; afterwards two of the party con- 
tinued on to the Gulf. The country below the Vir- 
gin River had been explored by several parties, but pre- 
vious to this time nothing definite was known of the 
gorges until this exploration by this most remarkable 
man. The difficulties of this hazardous trip were in- 
creased for him by the fact that he had lost an arm in 
the Civil War. 

It is usually taken for granted that the United States 
government was back of this exploration. This was 
true of the second expedition, but not of the first. Major 
Powell was aided to a certain extent by the State College 
of Illinois, otherwise he bore all the expense himself. 
He received ^10,000 from the government to apply on 
the expenses of the second trip. 

We felt that we had some reason to feel a justifiable 



276 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

pride for having duplicated, in some ways, this arduous 
journey. It was impossible for us to do more than guess 
what must have been the feelings and anxieties of this 
explorer. Added to the fact that we had boats, tested 
and constructed to meet the requirements of the river, 
and the benefit of others' experiences, was a knowledge 
that we were not likely to be precipitated over a waterfall, 
or if we lost everything and succeeded in climbing out, 
that there were a few ranches and distant settlements 
scattered through the country. 

But we had traversed the same river and the same 
canyons which change but little from year to year, and 
had succeeded beyond our fondest hopes in having ac- 
complished what we set out to do. 

The Black Mountains, dark and forbidding, composed 
of a hard rock which gave a metallic clink, and deco- 
rated with large spots of white, yellow, vermilion, and 
purple deposits of volcanic ashes, were entered this af- 
ternoon. The peaks were about a thousand feet high. 
The passage between Is known as Boulder Canyon. 
Here we met two miners at work on a tunnel, or drift, 
who informed us that it was about forty miles to Las 
Vegas, Nevada, and that It was only twenty-five miles 
from the mouth of Las Vegas Wash, farther down the 
river, to this same town and the railroad. 

Fort Callville — an abandoned rock building, con- 
structed by the directions of Brigham Young, without 



THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS 277 

windows or roof, and surrounded by stone corrals — 
was passed the next day. At Las Vegas Wash the river 
turned at right angles, going directly south, holding with 
very little deviation to this general direction until it 
empties into the Gulf of California nearly five hundred 
miles away. The river seemed to be growing smaller 
as we got out in the open country. Like all Western 
rivers, when unprotected by canyons, it was sinking in 
the sand. Sand-bars impeded our progress at such places 
as the mouth of the Wash. But we had a good current, 
without rapids in Black Canyon, which came shortly 
below, and mile after mile was put behind us before we 
camped for the night. 

An old stamp-mill, closed for the time, but in charge 
of three men who were making preparations to resume 
work, was passed the next day. They had telephone 
communication with Searchlight, Nevada, twenty odd 
miles away, and we sent out some telegrams in that way. 

More sand-bars were encountered the next day, and 
ranches began to appear on both sides of the river. We 
had difficulty on some of these bars. In places the river 
bed was a mile wide, with stagnant pools above the sand, 
and with one deep channel twisting between. At Fort 
Mojave, now an Indian school and agency, we tele- 
phoned to some friends in Needles, as we had promised 
to do, telling them we would arrive about noon of the 
following day. We made a mistake in not camping at 



278 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

the high ground by the ''fort" that night, for just below 
the river widened again and the channel turned out in 
the centre. It was getting dark and we had entered this 
before noticing which way it turned, and had a hard pull 
back to the shore, for we had no desire to camp out there 
in the quicksand. The shore was little more desirable. 
It was a marsh, covered w^ith a growth of flags and tules, 
but with the ground frozen enough so that we did not sink. 
Our last camp — No. 76 — was made in this marsh. 
There we spent the night, hidden like hunted savages 
in the cane-brake, while an Indian brass band played 
some very good music for an officers' ball, less than half 
a mile away. 

We were up and away with the sun the next morn- 
ing. On nearing Needles, a friend met us on the out- 
skirts of the town and informed us that they had ar- 
ranged what he called an official landing and reception. 
At his request we deferred going down at once, but busied 
ourselves Instead at packing our cargo, ready for ship- 
ping. Our friend had secured the services of a motion- 
picture operator and our own camera was sent down to 
make a picture of the landing, which was made as he had 
arranged. 

WelandedinNeedles January 18, 1912 ; onemonthfrom 
the time of our start from Bright Angel Trail, with a total 
of one hundred and one days spent along the river. In 
that time our camps had been changed seventy-six times. 




< opyrtgm uy Kolb tiros. 
WATCHING FOR THE SIGNAL FIRE. MRS. EMERV AND EDITH KOLB. 



THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS 279 

Our two boats, highly prized as souvenirs of our twelve 
hundred mile trip, and which had carried us through 
three hundred and sixty-five big rapids, over a total de- 
scent of more than five thousand feet, were loaded on cars 
ready for shipment ; the Edith to Los Angeles, the De- 
fiance to the Grand Canyon. 

Among other mail awaiting us was the following letter, 
bearing the postmark of Hite, Utah : 

"KoLB Bros., 
*'Dear Friends : 

"Well I got here at last after seventeen days in 
Cataract Canyon. The old boat will stand a little quiet 
water but will never go through another rapid. I cer- 
tainly played 'ring-a-round' some of those rocks in 
Cataract Canyon ; I tried every scheme I had ever 
heard of, and some that were never thought of before. 
At the last rapid in Cataract I carried all my stuff over 
the cliff, then tried to line the boat from the narrow ledge. 
The boat jerked me into the river, but I did not lose my 
hold on the chain and climbed on board. I had no oars, 
but managed to get through without striking any rocks, 
and landed a mile and a half below the supplies. I hope 
the * movies' are good.^ 

" Sincerely yours, 

"Chas. Smith." 

^ See appendix, History of Cataract Canyon. 



CONCLUSION. HOW I WENT TO MEXICO 
CHAPTER XXIV 

ON THE CREST OF A FLOOD 

A WESTWARD-BOUND train was bearing me across the 
Mojave Desert one day in May. In a few swiftly passing 
hours we had made a six-thousand foot descent from the 
plateau with its fir and aspen-covered mountain, its cedar 
and pinon-clothed foot-hills, and its extensive forests of 
yellow pine. Crimson and yellow-flowered cactus, sage 
and chaparral, succeeded the pines. The cool mountains 
had given way to burned-out, umber-coloured hills, rock- 
ribbed arroyos, and seemingly endless desert; and the 
sun was growing hotter every minute. 

If the heat continued to increase, I doubted if I would 
care to take a half-planned Colorado River trip down 
to the Gulf. Visions of the California beaches, of fishing 
at Catalina and of horseback rides over the Sierra's trails, 
nearly unsettled my determination to stop at Needles, 
on the California side of the river. This was my vaca- 
tion ! Why undergo all the discomfort of a voyage on 
a desert stream, when the pleasures and comforts of the 

Pacific beckoned ? _ One thing was sure, if I was not 

a8o 



ON THE CREST OF A FLOOD 28 1 

successful in securing a boat at Needles, the very next 
train would find me on board, bound for the Western 
Slope. By mid-afternoon the chaparral had disap- 
peared and only the cactus remained — the ocotilla, 
covered with a million flowers, wave upon wave of crim- 
son flame, against the yellow earth. Violet-veiled moun- 
tains appeared in the west, marking the southern trend 
of the Colorado. The air was suffocating. The train- 
created wind was like a blast from a furnace ; yet with 
the electric fans whirring, with blinds drawn and windows 
closed to keep the withering air out, it seemed a little less 
uncomfortable in the car, in spite of the unvitalized air, 
than under the scorching sun. 

We were beside the Colorado at last. I had a good 
view of the stream below, as we crossed the bridge — 
the Colorado in flood, muddy, turbulent, sweeping on- 
ward like an afi'righted thing, — repulsive, yet with a 
fascination for me, born of an intimate acquaintance 
with the dangers of this stream. The river had called 
again ! The heat was forgotten, the visions of the coast 
faded, for me the train could not reach Needles, ten 
miles up the river, quickly enough. 

With my brother, I had followed this stream down 
to Needles, through a thousand miles of canyon. I had 
seen how it carved its way through the mountains, carry- 
ing them on, in solution, toward the ocean. At last I 
would see what became of all these misplaced mountains. 



282 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON^ FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

I would see the tidal bore as it swept in from the Gulf. 
I had heard there were wild hogs which burrowed through 
the cane-brake. It may be that I would learn of a vessel 
at some port down on the Alexican coast, which I might 
reach and which would take me around the Lower Cali- 
fornia Peninsula. I felt sure there was such a port. No 
doubt I could have found books to tell me exactly what 
I would see, but too much information would spoil all 
the romance of such an adventure. It was all very 
alluring. With the spring flood on, the river could not 
help but be interesting and exciting, a pretty good imita- 
tion of the rapids, perhaps. If I could only secure a boat ! 

Half an hour later I was meeting old acquaintances 
about the hotel, connected with the station. The genial 
hotel manager, with the Irish name, was smilingly ex- 
plaining to some newcomers that this was not hot ; that 
"a dry heat at no degrees was not nearly as bad as 85 
degrees back in Chicago," " and as for heat, " he continued, 
"why down in Yuma" — then he caught sight of me, 
with a grin on my face, and perhaps he remembered that 
I had heard him say the same thing two years before, 
when it was even hotter; and he came over with out- 
stretched hand, — calling me uncomplimentary names, 
under his breath, for spoiling the effect of his explanation ; 
all which was belied by his welcome. It takes an Irish- 
man to run a big hotel in the middle of the desert. 

A few inquiries brought out the information that I 



ON THE CREST OF A FLOOD 283 

was not likely to get a boat. The stores did not keep 
them. I should have given my order two weeks before 
to an Indian who built boats to order at ^2.00 a foot. 
This was a new one on me. Suppose a fellow wanted — 
well, say, about ^15.00 worth. It would look something 
like a tub, wouldn't it ? Perhaps it was to be the coast, 
for me, after all. 

The Colorado River in flood is a terrible stream. 
Unlike the Eastern rivers, there are no populous cities — 
with apologies to Needles and Yuma — along its shores, 
to be inundated with the floods. Unlike the rivers 
of the South, few great agricultural districts spread 
across its bottoms. Along the upper seven hundred 
miles there are not a half-dozen ranches with twenty-five 
acres under cultivation. But if destructive power and 
untamed energy are terrible, the Colorado River, 
in flood, is a terrible stream. 

After changing into some comfortable clothes I 
sauntered past the railway machine shops down to 
the river, and up to where a fight was being waged to 
save the upper part of the town from being torn away 
by the flood. For a month past, car after car of rock 
had been dumped along the river bank, only to disappear 
in the quicksands ; and as yet no bottom had been 
reached. Up to this point the fight was about equal. 
The flood would not reach its crest until two or three 
weeks later. 



284 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

Beyond a fisherman or two there were few men by 
the river. The workmen had finished their day's labour. 
A ferryman said that I might talk an Indian into selling 
his boat, but it was doubtful. My next job was to find 
such an Indian. 

A big, greasy Mojave buck lay on an uncovered, rusty 
bed spring, slung on a home-made frame, before his 
willow and adobe home, close to the Colorado River. In 
answer to my repeated question he uncoiled and stretched 
the full length of his six foot six couch, grunted a few 
words in his native tongue to other Indians without a 
glance in my direction, then indifferently closed his eyes 
again. A young Indian in semi-cowboy garb, — not 
omitting a gorgeous silk handkerchief about his neck, — 
jabbered awhile with some grinning squaws, then said in 
perfectly understandable English, "He will sell his boat 
for $18.00. It is worth $30.00." This was decisive for 
an Indian. It usually takes a half-day of bickering to 
get them to make any kind of a bargain. I told him I 
would take it in the morning. 

It was a well-constructed boat, almost new, built of 
inch pine, flat-bottomed, and otherwise quite similar in 
shape to the boats my brother and I had used on 
our twelve hundred mile journey through the canyons 
of the Green and Colorado rivers, — but without the 
graceful lines and swells that made those other bcc^ts so 
valuable to us in rapids. The boat was nearly new and 



ON THE CREST OF A FLOOD 285 

well worth $30.00, as boat prices went in that town. 
Why he was willing to sell it for $18.00, or at the rate 
of $1.00 a foot, I could not imagine. It was the first 
bargain an Indian had ever offered me. But if I paid 
for it that evening, there were doubts in my mind if I 
should find it in the morning, so I delayed closing the 
bargain and went back again to inspect the boat. 

That evening I inquired among my acquaintances if 
+here was any one who would care to accompany me. If 
so I would give them passage to Yuma, or to the Gulf of 
California in Mexico, if they wished it. But no one could 
go, or those who could, wouldn't. One would have 
thought from the stories with which I was regaled, that 
the rapids of the Grand Canyon were below Needles, and 
as for going to the Gulf, it was suicide. I was told of the 
outlaws along the border, of the firearms and opium 
smugglers, who shot first and questioned afterward, and 
of the insurrectos of Lower California. The river had no 
real outlet to the ocean, they said, since the break into 
Salton Sea, but spread over a cane-brake, thirty miles or 
more in width. Many people had gone into these swamps 
and never returned, whether lost in the jungles or killed 
by the Cocopah Indians, no one knew. They simply 
disappeared. It was all very alluring. 

My preparations, the next day, were few. I had in- 
cluded a sleeping bag with my baggage. It would come 
in equally handy whether I went down on the Colorado 



286 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

or up into the Coast Range. A frying-pan, a coflFee-pot, 
a few metal dishes and provisions for a week were all I 
needed. Some one suggested some bent poles, and a 
cover, such as are used on wagons to keep off the sun. 
This seemed like a good idea ; and I hunted up a carpenter 
who did odd jobs. He did not have such a one, but he 
did have an old wagon-seat cover, which could be raised 
or dropped at will. This was even better, for sometimes 
hard winds sweep up the river. The cover was fastened 
to the sides of the boat. The boat, meanwhile, had been 
thoroughly scrubbed. It looked clean before, but I was 
not going to take any chances at carrying Indian live- 
stock along with his boat. My surplus baggage was sent 
on to Los Angeles, and twenty-four hours after I had 
landed in Needles, I was ready to embark. 

My experience in camping trips of various sorts has 
been that the start from headquarters occupies more time 
than any similar preparation. Once on the road, things 
naturally arrange themselves into some kind of a system, 
and an hour on the road in the evening means several 
hours gained the next morning. Added to this, there are 
always a number of loafers about railroad towns, and 
small things have a way of disappearing. With this 
in mind, I determined to make my start that evening, 
and at 7 p.m. on the 23d of May, 191 3, I embarked on a 
six to eight mile an hour current, paced by cottonwood 
logs, carried down by the flood from the head waters In 
Wyoming, Utah, and Colorado. 



ON THE CREST OF A FLOOD 287 

When sailing on the unruffled current one did not 
notice its swiftness — it sped so quietly yet at the same 
time with such deadly intent — until some half sub- 
merged Cottonwood snags appeared, their jagged, broken 
limbs ploughing the stream exactly like the bow of a motor- 
driven boat, throwing two diverging lines of waves far 
down the stream. One would almost think the boat was 
motionless, it raced so smoothly, — and that the snags 
were tearing upstream as a river man had said, the day 
before, "like a dog with a bone in his teeth." A sunken 
stone-boat, with a cabin half submerged, seemed pro- 
pelled by some unseen power and rapidly dwindled in 
the distance. 

So fascinating were these things that I forgot the 
approaching night. I first noticed it when the stream 
slackened its mad pace and spread over its banks into 
great wide marshes, in divided and subdivided channels 
and over submerged islands, with nothing but willow and 
fuzzy cattail tops to indicate that there was a bottom 
underneath. Here there was no place to camp had I 
wished to do so. Once I missed the main channel and 
had a difficult time in finding my way back in the dark. 
After two or three miles of this quiet current, the streams 
began to unite again, and the river regained its former 
speed. I was growing weary after the first excitement, 
and began to wish myself well out of it all and safely 
anchored to the shore. But I knew there was a level 



288 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

bank above the river close to the bridge, which would 
make a good camping place ; so I rested on my oars, 
facing down the stream with eyes and ears alert for the 
treacherous snags. Then the stars began to appear, 
one by one, lighting up the cloudless sky ; a moist, tropi- 
cal-like breeze moved up the stream, the channel narrowed 
and deepened, the snags vanished, and the stream in- 
creased its swiftness. 

And with eyes wide open, but unseeing, I dozed. 

It was the lights of a passenger train crossing the 
bridge, just a short distance away, that made me realize 
where I was. The train thundered into the darkness ; 
but louder than the roar of the train was that of the 
water directly ahead, and hidden in the impenetrable 
shadow over on the right shore was a noise much like 
that made by a Grand Canyon rapid. 

Wide awake now, I pulled for the left, and after 
one or two attempts to land, I caught some willow tops 
and guided the boat to the raised bank. Beyond the 
willows was a higher ground, covered with a mesquite 
thicket, with cattle trails winding under the thorny 
trees. Here I unrolled my sleeping bag, then went up to 
interview the operator and the watchman, and to get a 
drink of clear water, for I had no desire to drink the 
liquid mud of the Colorado until it was necessary. In 
answer to a question I told them of my little ride. One of 
the men exclaimed, "You don't mean to say that you 



ON THE CREST OF A FLOOD 289 

came down on the flood after dark !" On being informed 
that I had just arrived, he exclaimed : "Well I reckon you 
don't know what the Colorado is. It's a wonder this 
whirlpool didn't break you against the pier. You ought 
to have brought some one with you to see you drown !" 



CHAPTER XXV 

FOUR DAYS TO YUMA 

Before sunrise the following morning, I had com- 
pleted my few camp duties, finished my breakfast, 
and dropped my boat into the whirlpool above the bridge. 
My two friends watched the manoeuvre as I pulled clear 
of the logs and the piers which caused the water to 
make such alarming sounds the night before ; then they 
gave me a final word of caution, and the information 
that the Parker Bridge was sixty miles away and that 
Yuma was two hundred and fifty miles down the stream. 
They thought that I should reach Yuma in a week. It 
seemed but a few minutes until the bridge was a mile 
up the stream. Now I was truly embarked for the 
gulf. 

By the time I had reached the spire-like mountainous 
rocks a few miles below the bridge, which gave the town 
of Needles its name, the sun was well up and I was begin- 
ning to learn what desert heat was, although I had 
little time to think of it as I was kept so busy with my 

boat. Here, the stream which was spread a mile wide 

290 



FOUR DAYS TO YUMA 



291 



above, had choked down to two hundred feet; small 
violent whirlpools formed at the abrupt turns in this 
so-called canyon and the water tore from side to side. 
In one whirl my boat was twice carried around the circle 
into which I had allowed it to be caught, then shot out 
on the pounding flood. Soon the slag-like mountains 
were passed and the country began to spread, first in a 
high barren land, then with a bottom land running back 
from the river. The willow bushes changed to willow 
trees, tall and spindly, crowded in a thicket down to the 
river's edge. The Chemehuevi Indians have their res- 
ervation here. On rounding an abrupt turn I surprised 
two little naked children, fat as butterballs, dabbling 
in a mud puddle close to the stream. The sight, coupled 
with the tropical-like heat and the jungle, could well 
make one imagine he was in Africa or India, and that the 
little brown bodies were the "alligator bait" of which we 
read. Only the 'gators were missing. The unexpected 
sight of a boat and a white man trying to photograph 
them started them both into a frightened squall. Then an 
Indignant mother appeared, staring at me as though she 
would like to know what I had done to her offspring. 
Farther along were other squaws, with red and blue lines 
pencilledontheirchildlike, contented faces, seated under the 
willows. Their cotton garments, of red and blue bandanna 
handkerchiefs sewed together, added a gay bit of colour 
to the scene. 



292 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

Below this were two or three cozy little ranch houses 
and a few scattered cattle ranches, with cattle browsing 
back in the trees. All this time it was getting hotter, and 
I was thankful for my sheltering cover. My lunch, pre- 
pared in the morning, was eaten as I drifted. Except in 
a few quiet stretches I did little rowing, just enough 
to keep the boat away from the overhanging banks and 
in the strong current. 

The bottom lands began to build up again with banks 
of gravel and clay, growing higher with every mile. 
The deciduous trees gave way to the desert growths : 
the cholla, "the shower of gold," and the palo verde and 
the other acacias. Here were the California or valley- 
quail ; and lean, long-legged jack-rabbits. Here too 
were the coyotes, leaner than the rabbits, but efficient, 
shifty-eyed, and insolent. One could admire but could 
hardly respect them. 

I had entertained hopes of reaching Parker that even- 
ing, but supposed the hour would be late if I reached it 
at all. Imagine my surprise, then, when at half-past four 
I heard the whistle of a train, and another turn revealed 
the Parker bridge. I had been told by others that it had 
taken them three or four days to reach this point on a 
low stage of water. Evidently the high water is much 
better for rapid and interesting travel. 

Here at the bridge, which was a hundred feet above the 
river, was a dredge, and an old flat-bottomed steamboat, 



FOUR DAYS TO YUMA 293 

a relic of a few years past, before the government built 
the Laguna dam above Yuma, and condemned the 
Colorado as a navigable stream. Those were the days 
which the Colorado steamboat men recall with as much 
fond remembrance as the old-time boatmen of the Missis- 
sippi remember their palmy days. 

In spite of the fact that the boats were flat-bottomed 
and small, it was real steamboating of an exciting nature 
at least. At times they beat up against the current as 
far as the mouth of the Rio Virgin. In low water the 
channels shifted back and forth first choked with sand on 
one side of the stream, then on the other. While the 
total fall from Fort Mojave, a few miles above Needles, 
to the Gulf is only 525 feet, considerable of that fall 
came in short sections, first with a swift descent, then in a 
quiet stretch. Even in the high- water stage I was finding 
some such places. 

Parker stood a mile back from the river, on top of the 
level gravelly earth which stretched for miles on either 
side of the river clear to the mountains. This earth 
and gravel mixture was so firmly packed that even the 
cactus had a scant foothold. The town interested me 
for one reason only, this being, that I could get my meals 
for the evening and the following morning, instead of 
having to cook them myself. After I had eaten them, 
however, there was a question in my mind if my own cook- 
ing, bad as it was, would not have answered the purpose 



294 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

just as well. The place was a new railroad town on an 
Indian reservation, a town of great expectations, some- 
what deferred. 

It was not as interesting to me as my next stop at 
Ahrenburg, some fifty miles below Parker. This place, 
while nothing but a collection of dilapidated adobe 
buildings, had an air of romance about It which was 
missing In the newer town. Ahrenburg had seen Its day. 
Many years ago It was a busy mining camp, and the hope 
is entertained by the faithful who still reside In its pictur- 
esque adobe homes that it will come back with renewed 
vigour. Here at Ahrenburg I met a character who added 
greatly to the interest of my stay. He was a gigantic, 
raw-boned Frenchman, at that time engaged in the 
construction of a motor boat ; but a miner, a sailor, and 
a soldier of fortune in many ways, one who had pried Into 
many of the hidden corners of the country and had a 
graphic way of describing what he had seen. I was his 
guest until late that night, and was entertained royally 
on what humble fare he had to offer. We both Intended 
to renew our acquaintance In the morning, but some 
prowling Mexicans near my boat, croaking frogs, and 
swarms of mosquitos gave me a restless night. With the 
first glimmer of daylight I was up, and half an hour later 
I was away on the flood. 

This was my big day. The current was better than 
much of that above ; I was getting used to the heat, and. 




THE CORK SCREW: 



Lopyrignt oy Kolb Bros. 
LOWER END OF BRIGHT ANGEL TRAIL. 



FOUR DAYS TO YUMA 



295 



instead of idly drifting, I pulled steadily at the oars. 
The river twisted back and forth in great loops with the 
strong current, as is usual, always on the outside of the 
loops, close to the overhanging banks. I would keep 
my boat in this current, with a wary lookout over my 
shoulder for fallen trees and sudden turns, which had 
a way of appearing when least expected. At some such 
places the stream was engaged at undermining the banks 
which rose eight and ten feet above the water. Occasional 
sections, containing tons of earth and covered with tall, 
slender willow trees, would topple over, falling on the 
water with the roar of a cannon or a continued salute of 
cannons ; for the falling, once started, quite often extended 
for half a mile down the stream. At one such place 
eighteen trees fell in three minutes, and it would be safe 
to say that a hundred trees were included in the extended 
fall. The trees, sixty feet high, resembled a field of 
gigantic grass or unripened grain ; the river was a reaper, 
cutting it away at the roots. Over they tumbled to be 
buried in the stream ; the water would swirl and boil, 
earth and trees would disappear; then the mass of leaf- 
covered timber, freed of the earth, would wash away to 
lodge on the first sand-bar, and the formation of a new 
island or a new shore would begin. 

Then again, the banks were barren, composed of 
gravel and clay, centuries older than the verdure-covered 
land, undisturbed, possibly, since some glacial period de- 



296 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

posited it there. But a shifting of the channel directed 
the attack against these banks. Here the swift current 
would find a little irregularity on the surface and would 
begin its cutting. The sand-laden water bored exactly 
like an auger, in fast-cutting whirls. One such place I 
watched for a half-hour from the very beginning, until 
the undermined section, fourteen feet high, began to 
topple, and I pulled out to safety, but not far enough to 
escape a ducking in the resulting wave. 

Below this, instead of a firm earth, it was a loose sand 
and gravel mixture twenty feet above the river. Here 
for half a mile the entire bank was moving, slowly at 
the top, gathering speed at the bottom. While close to 
this I heard a peculiar hissing as of carbonated water 
all about me. At first I thought there were mineral 
springs underneath, but found the noise was caused by 
breaking air bubbles carried under the stream with 
the sands. All this day such phenomena continued, 
sliding sand-banks and tumbling jungles. In these 
latter places some cattle had suffered. Their trails 
ran parallel with the stream. No doubt they had one or 
two places where they drank cut down to the stream. 
Knowing nothing of the cutting underneath, they had 
been precipitated into the flood, and now their carcasses 
were food for swarms of vultures gathered for an unholy 
feast. 

What powerful, graceful birds these scavengers are, 



iiiwaji 



FOUR DAYS TO YUMA 297 

Stronger than the eagle even, tireless and seemingly 
motionless as they drift along searching every nook and 
cranny for their provender ! But aside from a grudgingly 
given tribute of admiration for their power, one has 
about as much respect for them as for the equally graceful 
rattlesnake, that other product of nature which flourishes 
in this desert land. 

The bird life along this lower part of the river was 
wonderful in its variety. The birds of the desert mingled 
with those of the fertile lands. The song-birds vied with 
those of gorgeous plume. Water-birds disported them- 
selves in the mud-banks and sloughs. The smaller birds 
seemed to pay little attention to the nearness of the 
hawks. Kingfisher perched on limbs overhanging the 
quiet pools, ready to drop at the faintest movement on 
the opaque water; the road-runner chased the festive 
lizard on the desert land back of the willows. Here 
also in the mesquite and giant cactus were thrush and 
Western meadow-larks and mocking-birds mimicking the 
call of the cat-bird. Down in the brush by the river was 
the happy little water-ousel, as cheerful in his way as 
the dumpy-built musical canyon wren. The Mexican 
crossbill appeared to have little fear of the migrating 
Northern shrike. There were warblers, cardinals, tan- 
agers, waxwings, song-sparrows, and chickadees. Flitting 
droves of bush-tit dropped on to slender weeds, scarcely 
bending them, so light were they. Then in a minute 



298 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

they were gone. In the swamps or marshes were count- 
less red-winged blackbirds. 

The most unobservant person could not help but see 
birds here. I had expected to find water-fowl, for the 
Colorado delta is their breeding place ; but I little ex- 
pected to find so many land birds in the trees along the 
river. Instead of having a lonesome trip, every minute 
was filled with something new, interesting, and beautiful, 
and I was having the time of my life. 

I camped that night at Picachio, — meaning the 
Pocket, — eighty miles below Ahrenburg. This is still 
a mining district, but the pockets containing nuggets 
of gold which gave the place its name seem to have all 
been discovered at the time of the boom ; the mining now 
done is in quartz ledges up on the sides of grim, mineral- 
stained hills. I was back in the land of rock again, a 
land showing the forces of nature in high points of foreign 
rock, shot up from beneath, penetrating the crust of the 
earth and in a few places emerging for a height of two 
hundred feet from the river itself, forming barren islands 
and great circling whirlpools, as large as that in the 
Niagara gorge, and I thought, for a while, almost as 
powerful. In one I attempted to keep to the short side 
of the river, but found it a difiicult job, and one which 
took three times as long to accomplish as if I had allowed 
myself to be carried around the circle. 

Then the land became level again, and the Chocolate 



FOUR DAYS TO YUMA 299 

Mountains were seen to the west. A hard wind blew 
across the stream, so that I had to drop my sunshade to 
prevent being carried against the rocks. This day I 
passed a large irrigation canal leading off from the stream, 
the second such on the entire course of the Colorado. 
Here a friendly ranchman called to me from the shore 
and warned me of the Laguna dam some distance below. 
He said the water was backed up for three miles, so I 
would know when I was approaching it. 

In spite of this warning, I nearly came to grief at 
the dam. The wind had shifted until it blew directly 
down the stream. The river, nearly a mile wide, still 
ran with a powerful current ; I ceased rowing and drifted 
down, over waves much like those one would find on a 
lake driven by a heavy wind. I saw some high poles 
and a heav^'' electric cable stretched across the stream, 
and concluded that this was the beginning of the dam. 
I began to look ahead for some sign of a barrier across 
the stream, far below, but I could see nothing of the 
kind ; then as I neared the poles it suddenly dawned on 
me that there was no raised barrier which diverted all 
the water through a sluice, but a submerged dam, over 
which the flood poured, and that the poles were on that 
dam. 

My sail-like sunshade was dropped as quickly as 
I could do it, and, grabbing the oars, I began to pull for the 
California shore. 



300 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

It was fortunate for me that I happened to be com- 
paratively near the shore when I began rowing. As it 
was, I landed below the diverting canal, and about a 
hundred yards above the dam. On examination the 
dam proved to be a slope about fifty feet long. A man 
in charge of the machinery controlling the gates told 
me that the dam lacked seven feet of being a mile wide, 
and that approximately seven feet of water was going 
over the entire dam. 

Great cement blocks and rocks had been dropped 
promiscuously below the dam to prevent it from being 
undermined. Even without the rocks it was doubtful 
if an uncovered boat could go through without upsetting. 
The great force of the water made a trough four or five 
feet lower than the river level, all water coming down 
the slope shooting underneath, while the river rolled 
back upstream. On two occasions boatmen had been 
carried over the dam. In each case the boat was 
wrecked, but the occupants were thrown out and escaped 
uninjured. I could not help but be amused, and feel a 
little uncomfortable too, when I saw how nearly I came 
to being wrecked here, after having escaped that fate in 
the rapids of the canyons. 

I ran my boat back to the diverting canal, then rowed 
down to the massive cement gates, which looked to me 
like a small replica of some of the locks on the Panama 
Canal. With the help of an Indian who was ready for 



FOUR DAYS TO YUMA 30I 

a job my boat was taken out, rolled around the buildings 
on some sections of pipe, and slid over the bank into the 
canal below the gates. 

In spite of a desire to spend some time inspecting the 
machinery of this great work, — which, with the canal 
and other improvements, had cost the government over a 
million dollars — I immediately resumed my rowing. 
It was mid-afternoon, and measured by the canal, which 
was direct, It was twelve miles to Yuma. But I soon 
learned that great winding curves made it much farther 
by the river. In some cases it nearly doubled back on 
itself. The wind had shifted by this time and blew against 
me so hard that it was almost useless to attempt rowing. 
In another place there were no banks, and the water had 
spread for three miles in broken sloughs and around 
half-submerged islands, the one deep channel being 
lost In the maze of shallow ones. With these things to 
contend with it was dusk long before I neared the town, 
the twelve miles having stretched to twenty. Finally I 
saw a windmill partly submerged. Some distance away 
was a small ranch house also in the water. The house, 
with lights in the upper story, was a cheering sight ; the 
windmill looked out of place In the midst of all this desola- 
tion of water. Soon other houses appeared with lights 
showing through the windows. Once I lost my way and 
spent a half hour in getting back to the right channel. 

Somewhere in the dark, I never knew just when, I 



302 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

passed the mouth of the Gila River. In a similar way, in 
broad daylight I had passed the Bill Williams Fork 
above Ahrenburg. 

At last I neared the town. I could discern some build- 
ings on top of a small hill, evidently one of the back streets 
of Yuma. After tying my boat, I hid my small load 
in some mesquite trees, then climbed the hill and passed 
between two peculiar stone houses dark as dungeons. 
They puzzled me from the outside, but when once past 
them, I was no longer in doubt. I had entered the open 
gateway leading to the courtyard of the Yuma peniten- 
tiary. No wonder the buildings looked like dungeons. 
This was a new experience for me, but somehow I had 
always imagined just how it would look. I was consid- 
ering beating a retreat when a guard hailed me and asked 
me if I was not lost. With the assistance of the guard, I 
escaped from the pen and found my way to the streets of 
Yuma, just four days after leaving the Needles bridge. 



CHAPTER XXVI 

ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 

"Mexico Is a good place to keep away from just at 
present." This was the invariable answer to a few casual 
Inquiries concerning what I would be likely to meet with 
in the way of difficulties, a possible companion for the 
voyage to the Gulf, and how one could get back when 
once there. I received little encouragement from the 
people of Yuma. The cautions came not from the timid 
who see danger in every rumour, but from the old steam- 
boat captains, the miners, and prospectors who knew the 
country and had Interests In mineral claims across the 
border. These claims they had lost In many cases 
because they had failed for the last two years to keep 
up their assessment work. There were vague suggestions 
of being stood up against an adobe wall with a row of 
"yaller bellies" in front, or being thrown into damp dun- 
geons and held for a ransom. 

The steamboat men could give me little information 
about the river. The old channel had filled with silt, 
and the river was diverted into a roundabout course 

303 



304 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

little more than a creek in width, then spread over the 
whole delta. The widely spread water finally collected 
into an ancient course of the Colorado, known as the 
Hardy or False Colorado. As nearly as I could learn 
no one from Yuma had been through this new channel 
beyond a certain point called Volcanic Lake. Two 
or three parties had come back with stories of having 
attempted it, but found themselves in the middle of 
a cane-brake with insufficient water to float a boat. With 
a desire to be of real assistance to me, one old captain 
called a Yuma Indian into his office and asked him his 
opinion, suggesting that he might go along. 

"Mebbe so get lost in the trees, mebbe so get shot 
by the Cocopah," the Indian replied as he shook his head. 

The captain laughed at the last and said that the 
Yuma and Cocopah Indians were not the best of friends, 
and accused each other of all sorts of things which neither 
had committed. Some Mexicans and certain outlawed 
whites who kept close to the border for different reasons, 
and the possibilities of bogging in a cane-brake were the 
only uncertainties. In so many words he advised me 
against going. 

Still I persevered. I had planned so long on completing 
my boating trip to the Gulf, that I disliked to abandon the 
idea altogether. I felt sure, with a flood on the Colorado, 
there would be some channel that a flat-bottomed boat 
could go through, when travelling with the current ; 



ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 305 

but the return trip and the chances of being made a 
target for some hidden native who had lived on this 
unfriendly border and had as much reason for respecting 
some citizens of the United States as our own Indians 
had in the frontier days, caused me considerable con- 
cern. I knew it was customary everywhere to make 
much of the imaginary dangers, as we had found in our 
other journeys ; but it is not difficult to discriminate 
between sound advice and the croakings which are based 
on lack of real information. I knew this was sound 
advice, and as usual I disliked to follow it. At last I 
got some encouragement. It came from a retired Wild 
West showman, — the real thing, one who knew the West 
from its early days. He laughed at the idea of danger 
and said I was not likely to find any one, even if I was 
anxious to do so, until I got to the La Bolso Ranch near the 
Gulf. They would be glad to see me. He thought it 
was likely to prove uninteresting unless I intended to 
hunt wild hogs, but that was useless without dogs, and 
I would have trouble getting a gun past the custom 
officers. His advice was to talk with the Mexican consul, 
as he might know some one who could bring me back by 
horseback. 

In the consul I found a young Spaniard, all affability, 
bows, and gestures ; and without being conscious of it at 
first I too began making motions. He deplored my lack 
of knowledge of the Spanish language, laughed at any 



3o6 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

suggestion of trouble, as all trouble was in Eastern Sonora, 
he said, separated from the coast by two hundred miles of 
desert, and stated that the non-resident owner of the La 
Bolsa cattle ranch happened to be in the building at 
that moment. In a twinkling he had me before him and 
explained the situation. This gentleman, the owner 
of a 600,000-acre grant, and the fishing concession of the 
Gulf, stated that the ranch drove a team to Yuma once 
a week, that they would bring me back ; in the interval 
I must consider myself the guest of the Rancho La 
Bolsa. The consul gave me a passport, and so it was 
all arranged. 

In spite of the consul's opinion, there were many 
whispered rumours of war, of silent automobiles loaded with 
firearms that stole out of town under cover of the night 
and returned in four days, and another of a river channel 
that could be followed and was followed, the start being 
made, not from Yuma, but from another border town 
farther west. A year before there had been an outbreak 
at this place of certain restless spirits, — some whites 
included, — and they went along the northern line 
of Mexico, sacking the ranches and terrorizing the people. 
The La Bolsa ranch was among those that suffered. The 
party contained some discharged vaqueros who were 
anxious to interview the ranch foreman, but fortunately 
for him he was absent. Then they turned south to Chi- 
hauhau and joined the army of Madero. War, to them, 



ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 307 

meant license to rob and kill. They were not insur- 
rectos, but bandits, and this was the class that was most 
feared. 

Meanwhile I had not given up the idea of a possible 
companion. Before coming to Yuma I had entertained 
hopes of getting some one with a motor boat to take me 
down and back, but there were no motor boats, I found. 
The nearest approach to a power boat was an attempt 
that was being made to install the engine from a wrecked 
steam auto on a sort of flat-bottomed scow. I heard 
of this boat three or four times, and in each case the in- 
formation was accompanied by a smile and some vague 
remarks about a *' hybrid." I hunted up the owner, — 
the proprietor of a shooting gallery, — a man who had 
once had aspirations as a heavy-weight prize fighter, but 
had met with discouragement. So he had turned his 
activities to teaching the young idea how to shoot — 
especially the "Mexican idea" and those other border 
spirits who were itching for a scrap. 

The proprietor of the shooting gallery drove a thriving 
trade. Since he had abandoned his training he had 
taken on fat, and I found him to be a genial sort of giant 
who refused to concern himself with the serious side of 
life. Even a lacing he had received in San Francisco 
at the hands of a negro stevedore struck him as being 
humorous. He did not seem to have much more con- 
fidence in his "power boat" than the others, but 



308 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

said I might talk with the man who was putting it to- 
gether, ending with the remark "Phillipps thinks he 
can make her run, and he has always talked of going 
to the Gulf." 

On Investigation I found Al Phillipps was anxious to 
go to the Gulf, and would go along if I would wait until 
he got his boat in shape. This would take two days. 
Phillipps, as he told me himself, was a Jayhawker who 
had left the farm in Kansas and had gone to sea for two 
years. He was a cowboy, but had worked a year or 
two about mining engines. In Yuma he was a carpenter, 
but was anxious to leave and go prospecting along the 
Gulf. Phillipps and I were sure to have an interesting 
time. He spoke Spanish and did not fear any of the 
previously mentioned so-called dangers ; he had heard of 
one party being carried out to sea when the tide rushed 
out of the river, but as we would have low tide he thought 
that, with caution, we could avoid that. 

At last all was ready for the momentous trial. The 
river bank was lined with a crowd of men who seemed to 
have plenty of leisure. Some long-haired Yuma Indians, 
and red and green turbaned Papagos, gathered In a group 
off a little to one side. A number of darkies were fishing 
for bullheads, and boys of three colors besides the Mexi- 
cans and a lone Chinaman clambered over the trees 
and the boats along the shore. 

It was a moment of suspense for Phillipps. His 



ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 309 

reputation as an engineer and a constructor of boats 
hung in the balance. He also had some original ideas 
about a rudder which had been incorporated in this 
boat. Now was his chance to test them out, and his 
hour of triumph if they worked. 

The test was a rigid one. The boat was to be turned 
upstream against an eight-mile current with big sand- 
waves, beginning about sixty feet from the shore, running 
in the middle of the river. If the engine ran, and the 
stern paddle-wheel turned, his reputation was saved. 
If she was powerful enough to go against the current, 
it was a triumph and we would start for the Gulf at 
once. 

On board were Phillipps, a volunteer, and myself. 
Before turning the boat loose, the engine was tried. 
It was a success. The paddle-wheel churned the water 
at a great rate, sending the boat upstream as far as the 
ropes would let her go. We would try a preliminary 
run in the quiet water close to the shore, before making 
the test in the swift current. The order was given to 
cast off, and for two men, the owner and another, to hold to 
the ropes and follow on the shore. The engine was 
started, the paddle-wheel revolved, slowly at first but 
gathering speed with each revolution. We began to 
move gently, then faster, so that the men on shore had 
difficulty in keeping even with us, impeded as they were 
with bushes and sloping banks. Flushed with success. 



310 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

the order was given to turn her loose, and we gathered 
in the ropes. Now we were drifting away from the shore, 
and making some headway against the swift current. 
The crowd on shore was left behind. 

But as we left the bank the river Increased in speed, 
and the boat gradually lost. Then she stood still, but 
began to turn slowly, broadside to the current. This 
was something we had not foreseen. With no headway, 
the rudder was of no avail. There was no sweep-oar ; 
we had even neglected to put an oar on the boat. With 
pieces of boards the stranger and I paddled, trying to 
hold her straight, but all the time, in spite of our efforts, 
she drifted away from the land and slowly turned. A big 
sand-wave struck her, she wheeled in her tracks and 
raced straight for a pier, down the stream. 

About this time our engineer began having trouble 
with his engine. At first we feared it would not run^ now 
it seemed it would not stop. 

A great shout went up from the shore, and a bet was 
made that we would run to the Gulf in less than a day. 
A darky boy fell off a boat in the excitement, the Indians 
did a dance, men pounded each other and whooped for 
joy. Then a bolt came loose, and the engine ran away. 
Driving-rod and belts were whirled "regardless," as the 
passenger afterwards said, about our heads. 

Then the crash came. Our efforts to escape the pier 
were of no avail. I made a puny effort to break the 



ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 31I 

impact with a pole, but was sent sprawling on the deck. 
Al tumbled headlong on top of the engine, which he had 
stopped at last, our passenger rolled over and over, 
but we all stayed with the ship. Each grabbing a 
board, we began to paddle and steered the craft to the 
shore. 

With the excitement over, the crowd faded away. 
Only two or three willing hands remained to help us line 
the craft back to the landing. The owner, who had 
to run around the end of the bridge, came down pufhng 
and blowing, badly winded, at the end of the first round. 
Without a word from any one we brought the boat back 
to the landing. 

Al was the first to speak. 

"Well, what are you going to do .^" he asked. 

"Me ? I'm going to take my boat and start for the 
Gulf in ten minutes. I'll take nothing that I cannot 
carry. If I have to leave the river I will travel light 
across the desert to Calexico. I think that I can 
get through. If you want to go along, I'll stick 
with you until we get back. What do you think 
about it ?" 

It was a long speech and a little bitter perhaps. I 
felt that way. The disappointment on top of the three 
days' delay when time was precious could not be forgotten 
in a moment. And when my speech was said I was all 
through. 



312 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

Al said he would be ready in half an hour. Our beds 
were left behind. Al had a four-yard square of canvas 
for a sail. This would be sufficient covering at night 
in the hot desert. We had two canteens. The provi- 
sions, scarcely touched before arriving here, were suffi- 
cient for five days. I was so anxious to get started that 
I did not take the time to replenish them in Yuma, in- 
tending to do so at the custom-house on the Arizona side, 
twelve miles below, where some one had told me there was 
a store. I counted on camping there. After a hurriedly 
eaten luncheon we were ready to start, the boat was 
shoved off, and we were embarked for Mexico. 

Half an hour later we passed the abandoned Imperial 
Canal, the man-made channel which had nearly destroyed 
the vast agricultural lands which it had in turn created. 
Just such a flood as that on which we were travelling had 
torn out the insufficiently supported head-gates. The 
entire stream, instead of pushing slowly across the delta, 
weltering in its own silt to the Gulf, poured into the bot- 
tom of the basin nearly four hundred feet below the top 
of this silt-made dam. In a single night it cut an eighty- 
foot channel in the unyielding soil, and what had once 
been the northern end of the California Gulf was turned 
into an inland sea, filled with the turbid waters of the 
Colorado, instead of the sparkling waters of the ocean. 
Nothing but an almost superhuman fight finally rescued 
the land from the grip of the water. 



ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 313 

A short distance below, just across the Mexican line, 
on the California side, was the new canal, dug in a firmer 
soil and with strongly built gates anchored in rock back 
from the river. 

Half a mile away from the stream, on a spur railway, 
was the Mexican custom-house. I had imagined that 
it would be beside the river, and that guards would be 
seen patrolling the shore. But aside from an Indian 
fishing, there was no one to be seen. We walked out 
to the custom-house, gave a list of the few things which 
we had, assured them that we carried no guns, paid our 
duty, and departed. We had imagined that our boat 
would be inspected, but no one came near. 

The border line makes a jog here at the river and 
the Arizona-Mexico line was still a few miles down the 
stream. We had passed the mouth of the old silt-dammed 
Colorado channel, which flowed a little west of south ; 
and we turned instead to the west into the spreading 
delta or moraine. About this time I remarked that I 
had seen no store at the custom-house and that I must 
not neglect to get provisions at the next one or we would 
be rather short. 

"We passed our last custom-house back there." 
Al replied, "That's likely the last place we will see until 
we get to the ranch by the Gulf." 

No custom-house ! No store ! This was a surprise. 
What was a border for if not to have custom-houses and 



314 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

inspectors ? With all the talk of smuggling I had not 
thought of anything else. And I could tell by Al's tone 
that his estimation of my foresight had dropped several 
degrees. This was only natural, for his disappointment 
and the jibes still rankled. 

At last we were wholly in Mexican territory. With 
the States behind, all of our swiftly running water had 
departed, and we now travelled on a stream that was 
nearly stagnant. All the cottonwood logs which had 
finally been carried down the stream after having been 
deposited on a hundred shores, found here their final rest- 
ing place. About each cluster of logs an island was 
forming, covered with a rank grass and tules. 

Ramified channels wound here and there. Two or 
three times we found ourselves in a shallow channel, 
and with some difficulty retraced our way. All channels 
looked alike, but only one was deep. 

Then the willow trees which were far distant on either 
shore began to close in and we travelled in a channel not 
more than a hundred feet wide, growing smaller with 
every mile. This new channel is sometimes termed the 
Bee River. It parallels the northern Mexico line ; it 
also parallels a twenty-five mile levee which the United 
States government has constructed along the northern 
edge of this fifty-mile wide dam shoved across the Cali- 
fornia Gulf by the stream, building higher every year. 
Except for the river channel the dam may be said to 



ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 315 

reach unbroken from the Arizona-Sonora Mesa to the 
Cocopah Mountains. The levee runs from a point of 
rocks near the river to Lone Mountain, a solitary peak 
some distance east of the main range. This levee, built 
since the trouble with the canal, is all that prevents the 
water from breaking into the basin in a dozen places. 

We saw signs of two or three camp-fires close to the 
stream, and with the memory of the stories haunting us a 
little we built only a small fire when we cooked our even- 
ing meal, then extinguished it, and camped on a dry 
point of land a mile or two below. I think we were both 
a little nervous that night ; I confess that I was, and if an 
unwashed black-bearded individual had poked his head 
out from the willows and said, "Woof!" or whatever 
it is that they say when they want to start up a jack- 
rabbit, we would both have stampeded clear across the 
border. In fact I felt a little as I did when I played 
truant from school and wondered what would happen 
when I was found out. 

Daybreak found us ready to resume our journey, 
and with a rising sun any nervousness vanished. What 
could any one want with two men who had nothing but 
a flat-bottomed boat ? 

All the morning we travelled west, the trees ever 
drawing closer as our water departed on the south, run- 
ning through the willows, arrow-weed, and cat-tails. 
Then the channel opened into Volcanic Lake, a circular 



3l6 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

body of water, which is not a lake but simply a gathering 
together of the streams we had been losing, and here the 
water stands, depositing its mud. All the way across 
it had no depth but a bottomless mud, so soft it would 
engulf a person if he tried to wade across. 

On the west there was no growth. The shore was 
nothing but an ash-like powder, not a sand, but a rich 
soil blown here and there, building in dunes against 
every obstruction, ever moving before the wind. Here 
were boiling, sputtering mud pots and steam vents build- 
ing up and exhausting through mud pipe-stems, rising a 
foot or two above the springs. Here was a shelter or 
two of sun-warped boards constructed by those who 
come here crippled with rheumatism and are supposed 
to depart, cured. Here we saw signs of a wagon track 
driven toward Calexico, the border town directly north 
of the lake. The heat was scorching, the sun, reflected 
from the sand and water, was blistering, and we could 
well imagine what a walk across that ash-like soil would 
mean. Mirages in the distance beckoned, trees and 
lakes were seen over toward the mountains where we 
had seen nothing but desert before ; heat waves rose and 
fell. Our mouths began to puff from the reflected sun, 
our faces burned and peeled, black and red in spots. There 
was no indication of the slightest breeze until about three 
o'clock, when the wind moved gently across the lake. 

We had skirted the northern part of the circle, pass- 



ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 317 

ing a few small streams and then found one of the three 
large channels which empty the lake. As it happened 
we took the one on the outside, and the longest. The 
growth grew thicker than ever, the stream choked down 
to fifty feet. Now It began to loop backward and for- 
ward and back again, as though trying to make the long- 
est and crookedest channel possible in the smallest space. 
The water in the channel was stagnant, swift streamlets 
rushed in from the tules on the north, and rushed out 
again on the south. It was not always a simple matter 
to ascertain which was the main channel. Others just 
as large were diverted from the stream. Twice we 
attempted to cut across, but the water became shallow, 
the tules stalled our boats, and we were glad to return, 
sounding with a pole when in doubt. 

Then we began to realize that we were not entirely 
alone In this wilderness of water. We saw evidence of 
another's passage. In broken cat-tails and blazed trees. 
In many places he had pushed into the thickets. We 
concluded it must be a trapper. At last, to our surprise, 
we saw a telephone equipment, sheltered in a box nailed 
on a water-surrounded tree. The line ran directly 
across the stream. Here also we could see where a boat 
had forced a way through, and the water plants had been 
cut with a sharp instrument. What could it be ? We 
were certain no line ran to the only ranch at the Gulf. 
We had information of another ranch directly on the bor- 



3l8 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

der line, but did not think it came below the levee, and 
as far as we had learned, there were no homes but the 
wickiups of the Cocopah in the jungles. It was like one 
of those thrilling stories of Old Sleuth and Dead Shot 
Dick which we read, concealed in our schoolbooks, when 
we were supposed to be studying the physical geography 
of Mexico. But the telephone was no fiction, and had 
recently been repaired, but for what purpose it was there 
we could not imagine. After leaving the lake there was 
no dry land. At night our boat, filled with green tules 
for a bed, was tied to a willow tree, with its roots sub- 
merged in ten feet of water. Never were there such swarms 
of mosquitos. In the morning our faces were corrugated 
with lumps, not a single exposed spot remaining unbitten. 

The loops continued with the next day's travel, but 
we were gradually working to the southwest, then they 
began to straighten out somewhat, as the diverted streams 
returned. We thought early in the morning that we 
would pass about ten miles to the east of the coast range, 
but it was not to be. Directly to the base of the dark, 
heat-vibrating rocks we pulled, and landed on the first 
shore that we had seen for twenty-four hours. 

Here was a recently used trail, and tracks where 
horses came down to the water. Here too was the 
track of a barefooted Cocopah, a tribe noted for its men 
of gigantic build, and with great feet out of all propor- 
tion to their size. If that footprint was to be fossilized, 




Copyright by Kolb Bros. 
ZOROASTER TEMPLE: FROM THE END OF BRIGHT ANGEL TRAIL. 



ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 319 

future generations would marvel at the evidence of some 
gigantic prehistoric animal, an alligator with a human- 
shaped foot. These Indians have lived in these mud 
bottoms so long, crossing the streams on rafts made of 
bundles of tules, and only going to the higher land when 
their homes are inundated by the floods, that they have 
become a near approach to a web-footed human being. 

Our stream merely touched the mountain, then turned 
directly to the southeast in a gradually increasing stream. 
Now we began to see the breeding places of the water- 
birds of which we had heard. There was a confusion 
of bird calls, sand-hill cranes were everywhere ; in some 
cases with five stick-built nests in a single water-killed 
tree. A blue heron flopped around as though it had 
broken a wing, to decoy us from its nest. The snowy 
white pelican waddled along the banks and mingled with 
the cormorants. There were great numbers of gulls, 
and occasional snipe. We were too late to see the ducks 
which come here, literally by the million, during the win- 
ter months. There were hawks' nests in the same groups 
of trees as the cranes, with the young hawks stretching 
their necks for the food which was to be had in such abun- 
dance. And on another tree sat the parent hawks, com- 
placently looking over the nests of the other birds, like 
a coyote waiting for a horse to die. At Cocopah Moun- 
tain a golden eagle soared, coming down close to the 
ground as we rested under the mesquite. Then as we 



320 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

travelled clear streams of water began to pour in from 
the north and east, those same streams we had lost above, 
but cleared entirely of their silt. Now the willows grew 
scarce, and instead of mud banks a dry, firm earth was 
built up from the river's edge, and the stream increased 
in size. Soon it was six or seven hundred feet wide and 
running with a fair current. This was the Hardy River. 
We noticed signs of falling water on the banks as though 
the stream had dropped an inch or two. In a half-hour 
the mark indicated a fall of eight inches or more ; then we 
realized we were going out with the tide. A taste of 
water proved it. The river water was well mixed with a 
weak saline solution. We filled our canteens at once. 

We saw a small building and a flagpole on the south 
shore, but on nearing the place found it was deserted. 
A few miles below were two other channels equally as 
large as that on which we travelled, evidently fed by 
streams similar to our own. There were numerous scat- 
tered trees, some of them cottonwood, and we saw some 
grazing cattle. We began to look for the ranch house, 
which some one had said was at the point where the Colo- 
rado and the Hardy joined, and which others told us was 
at the Gulf. 



CHAPTER XXVII 

THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA 

That the head of the Gulf of California has a big 
tide is well known. Choked in a narrowing cone, the 
waters rise higher and higher as they come to the apex, 
reaching twenty-five feet or over in a high tide. This 
causes a tidal bore to roll up the Colorado, and from all 
reports it was something to be avoided. The earliest 
Spanish explorers told some wonderful tales of being 
caught in this bore and of nearly losing their little sailing 
vessels. 

This was my first experience with river tides. It 

was somewhat of a disappointment to me that I could 

not arrange to be here at a high tide, for we had come at 

the first quarter of the moon. Out on the open sea one 

can usually make some headway by rowing against the 

ebb or flow of the tide : here on the Colorado, where 

it flowed upstream at a rate of from five to eight miles 

an hour, it was different. When we reached the head of 

the tide, it was going out. Unfortunately for us the day 

was gone when the current began to run strong. It 
y 321 



322 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

hardly seemed advisable to travel with it after dark. We 
might pass the ranch, or be carried against a rock-bound 
coast, or find difficulty in landing and be overwhelmed 
by the tidal bore. So when darkness fell we camped, 
pulling our boat out in a little slough to prevent it from 
being carried away. Evidently we were too near the 
headwaters for a tidal bore, for at eleven p.m. the waters 
turned and' came back as quietly as they ran out. 

We launched our boat before the break of day, and 
for four hours we travelled on a good current. The chan- 
nel now had widened to a half-mile, with straight earthy 
banks, about fifteen feet high. Still there was no sign 
of a ranch, and it began to look to us as if there was little 
likelihood of finding any. 

The land was nearly level and except for a few raised 
hummocks on which grew some scattered trees, it was 
quite bare. This was not only because it did not get 
the life-giving water from the north, but because at times 
it was submerged under the saline waters from the south. 
Near the shores of the river, and extending back for 
fifty feet, was a matted, rank growth of grass ; beyond 
that the earth was bare, baked and cracked by the 
burning sun. This grass, we found, was a favorite resort 
of rattlesnakes. We killed two of them, a large one and 
a vicious little flat-headed sidewinder. 

All this land was the south rim of the silt dam, which 
extended from the line of cliffs or mesa on the east to 



THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA 323 

the mountains on the west. The other rim, a hundred 
feet higher, lay at least fifty miles to the north. Here 
was the resting-place of a small portion of the sediment 
carved away by the Colorado's floods. How deep it is 
piled and how far it extends out under the waters of the 
Gulf would be hard to say. 

We felt sure that we would get to the Gulf with this 
tide, but when the time came for it to turn we were still 
many miles away. There was nothing to do but to camp 
out on this sun-baked plain. We stopped a little after 
9.30 A.M. Now that we were nearing the Gulf we were 
sure there would be a tidal bore. As we breakfasted a 
slight rushing sound was heard, and what appeared to be 
a ripple of broken water or small breaker came up the 
stream and passed on. This was a disappointment. 
With high water on the river and with a low tide this was 
all the tidal bore we would see. 

In four hours the water rose fourteen feet, then for 
two hours the rise was slower. Within three feet of the 
level it came. The opposite side, rounded at the edges, 
looked like a thread on top of the water, tapered to a 
single silken strand and looking toward the Gulf, merged 
into the water. To all ap)pearances it was a placid lake 
spread from mountain to mesa. 

Our smaller canteen was still filled with the fresh 
water secured the evening before. The other had been 
emptied and was filled again before the return of the tide. 



324 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

but considerable taste of the salt remained. What we 
did now must be done with caution. So far we had not 
seen the ranch. We were in doubt whether it was some- 
where out on the coast or back on one of the sloughs 
passed the evening before. We had heard of large 
sail-boats being hauled from Yuma and launched by the 
ranch. This would seem to indicate that it was some- 
where on the Gulf. We had provisions sufficient for 
one day, one canteen of fresh water, and another so mixed 
with the salt water that we would not use it except as a 
last resort. 

A little after 3.30 p.m. the tide changed; we launched 
our boat and went out with the flood. As we neared 
the mouth of the stream we found that the inrush and 
outrush of water had torn the banks. Here the river 
spread in a circular pool several miles across. It seemed 
almost as if the waters ran clear to the line of yellow cliffs 
and to the hazy mountain range. Then the shores closed 
in again just before the current divided quite evenly on 
either side of a section of the barren plain named Mon- 
tague Island. We took the channel to the east. 

Our last hope of finding the ranch was in a dried-out 
river channel, overgrown with trees. But although we 
looked carefully as we passed, there was no sign of a 
trail or of human life. Some egrets preened their silken 
feathers on the bank ; sand-hill cranes and two coyotes, 
fat as hogs and dragging tails weighted with mud, 



THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA 325 

feasted on the lively hermit-crabs, which they extracted 
from their holes — and that was all. 

The sun, just above the lilac-tinted mountains, hung 
like a great suspended ball of fire. The cloudless sky 
glared like a furnace. Deep purple shadows crept into 
the canyons slashing the mountain range. The yellow 
dust-waves and the mirages disappeared with the going 
down of the sun. Still we were carried on and on. We 
would go down with the tide. Now the end of the island 
lay opposite the line of cliffs ; soon we would be in the 
Gulf. 

So ended the Colorado. Two thousand miles above, 
it was a beautiful river, born of a hundred snow-capped 
peaks and a thousand crystal streams ; gathering strength, 
it became the masterful river which had carved the hearts 
of mountains and slashed the rocky plateaus, draining 
a kingdom and giving but little in return. Now it was 
going under, but it was fighting to the end. Waves of 
yellow struggled up through waves of green and were 
beaten down again. The dorsal fins of a half-dozen sharks 
cut circles near our craft. With the last afterglow we 
were past the end of the island and were nearing the 
brooding cliffs. Still the current ran strong. The last 
vestige of day was swallowed in the gloom, just as the 
Colorado was buried 'neath the blue. A hard wind was 
blowing, toward the shore ; the sea was choppy. A point 
of rocks where the cliffs met the sea was. our, goal. Would 



326 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

we never reach it ? Even in the night, which was now 
upon us, the distance was deceptive. At last we neared 
the pile of rocks. The sound of waters pounding on the 
shore was heard, and we hurriedly landed, a half-mile 
above it, just as the tide turned. 

The beach was a half-mile wide, covered with mud 
and sloughs. There was no high shore. But an examina- 
tion showed that the tide ran back to the cliffs. One of 
us had to stay with the boat. Telling Phillipps to get 
what sleep he could, I sat in the boat, and allowed the 
small breakers which fox-chased each other to beat it 
in as the tide rose. 

An arctic explorer has said that having an adventure 
means that something unexpected or unforeseen has 
happened ; that some one has been incompetent. I had 
the satisfaction of knowing that the fault of this adven- 
ture, if such it could be called, was mine. Here we were, 
at our goal in Mexico, supposed to be a hostile land, with 
scant provisions for one day. It was a hundred miles 
along the line of cliffs, back to Yuma. So far, we had 
failed to find the ranch. It was not likely that it was 
around the point of rocks. We knew now that the Colo- 
rado channel was fifteen miles from the mouth of the 
river, and was not a slough as we had supposed. Doubt- 
less the ranch was up there. Our best plan was to return 
to the head of the tide, going up the Colorado, then if 
we did not find the ranch we would abandon the boat, 



THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA 327 

snare some birds, keep out of the scorching heat, and 
travel in the morning and evening. Two active men 
should be able to do that without difficulty. 

So the hours passed, with the breakers driving the 
boat toward the line of cliffs. When it had reached its 
highest point, I pulled into a slough and tied up, then 
woke Al as we had agreed. While I slept, he climbed 
the cliifs to have a last look. An hour after daybreak 
he returned. Nothing but rock and desert could be 
seen. We dragged the boat down in the slime of the 
slough until we caught the falling tied. Then Al rigged 
up his sail. With the rising sun a light breeze blew in 
from the Gulf. Here was our opportunity. Slowly we 
went up against the falling tide. Then as the breeze failed, 
the tide returned. Fifty feet away a six foot black sea 
bass floated ; his rounded back lifted above the water. 
With the approach of the boat he was gone. The sharks 
were seen again. 

Two hours later we had entered the mouth of the river 
carried by the rising tide. Several miles were left behind. 
Another breeze came up as the tide failed, and the sail 
was rigged up again. Things were coming our way at last. 
Al knew how to handle a boat. Running her in close to 
the top of the straight falling banks I could leap to the 
land, take a picture, then run and overtake the boat, and 
leap on again. 

Then the wind shifted, the tide turned, and we tied 



328 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

up, directly opposite the point where we had camped the 
afternoon before. It was the hottest day we had seen. 
Whirlwinds, gathering the dust in slender funnels, scur- 
ried across the plains. Mirages of trees bordering shim- 
mering lakes and spreading water such as we had come 
through below Yuma were to be seen, even out towards 
the sea. Then over toward the cliifs where the old 
Colorado once ran we saw a column of distant smoke. 
Perhaps it was a hunter ; it could hardly be the ranch. 
As we could do nothing with the boat, we concluded to 
walk over that way. It was many miles distant. Taking 
everything we had, including our last lunch, we started 
our walk, leaving a cloth on a pole to mark the point 
where our boat was anchored. But after going four 
miles it still seemed no nearer than before, so we returned. 
It was evening. The water was drinkable again ; that 
was something to be thankful for. By ten o'clock that 
night the tide would come up again. After dark we found 
that our boat was being beached. So we ran it down and 
began pulling it along over a shoal reaching far out from 
the shore. As we tugged I was sure I heard a call some- 
where up the river. What kind of a land was this ! 
Could it be that my senses were all deceiving me as my 
eyes were fooled by the mirage ? I had heard it, Al had 
not, and laughed when I said that I had. We listened 
and heard it again, plainly this time, "Can't you men find 
a landing ^ We have a good one up here," it said. 



THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA 329 

We asked them to row down, advising them to keep 
clear of the shoal. We waded out, guided by their voices, 
in the pitch darkness and neared the boat. 

One shadowy form sat in either end of a flat-bottomed 
boat. There was a mast, and the boat was fitted for 
two oarsmen as well. Evidently the load was heavy, for 
it was well down in the water. The sail cloth was spread 
over all the boat, excepting one end where there was a 
small sheet-iron stove, with a pan of glowing wood coal 
underneath. The aroma of coffee came from a pot on 
the stove. As I steadied myself at the bow I touched a 
crumpled flag, — Mexican, I thought, — but I could not 
see. Both figures sat facing us, with rifles in their hands, 
alert and ready for a surprise. Smugglers ! I thought ; 
guns, I imagined. They could not see our faces in 
the dark, neither could we distinguish theirs. Judging 
by their voices they were young men. I thought from 
the first that they were Mexicans, but they talked without 
accent. They could see that we carried no arms, but 
their vigilance was not relaxed. They asked what our 
trouble was and we told them of the beached boat, what 
we had been doing, and why we were there. They said 
they were out for a little sight-seeing trip down in the 
Gulf. They might go to Tiburone Island. One of them 
wondered if it was true that the natives were cannibals. 
He said he would not care about being shot, but he would 
hate to be put in their stew-pot. We asked them how 



330 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

much water they carried. A fifteen-gallon keg was all. 
They hoped to get more along the coast. It Is quite 
well known there is none. They professed to be unin- 
formed about the country, did not know there was a 
ranch or a tidal bore, and thanked us for our information 
about the tides, and the advice to fill their keg when the 
water was lowest, which would be in half an hour. They 
could not sell any provisions, but gave us a quart of flour. 

As we talked an undermined bank toppled over, 
sounding like shots from a gun. One cocked his rifle on 
the impulse, then laughed when he realized what it was. 
Just before we parted one of them remarked, "You came 
through the Bee River four days ago, near a telephone, 
didn't you ?" "Yes, but we didn't see any one," I 
replied. 

"No ? But we saw you !" And we felt the smiles 
we could not see. 

They said the large ranch had some Chinamen clear- 
ing the highest ground, and building levees around it to 
keep the water out. The telephone and a motor boat 
connected the different ranches. Their advice to us was 
to keep to the river, not to look for the ranch, but to 
get on the telephone and raise a racket until some one 
showed up. 

Then we parted to go to our respective landings, with 
mutual wishes for a successful journey. The boat was 
pulled down. The tide was on the point of turning, but 




TEN MILES FROM THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA. COMING UP ON A TWENTY-FOOT 

TIDE. 




SUNSET ON THE LOWER COLORADO RIVER. 



THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA 33 1 

it would be an hour before there would be any strength 
to it. I went to shore and built a fire of some driftwood, 
for the long stand in the water had chilled me. Al 
stayed with the boat. Earlier in the day, I cautiously 
shook the sticks loose from the matted grass, fearing the 
rattlers which were everywhere. In this case nothing 
buzzed. But I had no sooner got my fire well started 
when a rattler began to sing, roused by the light and the 
heat, about twenty feet away. My fire was built beside 
one of the many sloughs which cut back through the 
grass and ended in the barren soil. These sloughs were 
filled with water when the tide was in and made ideal 
landing places, especially if one had to avoid a big tidal 
bore. Getting on the opposite side of the fire, I tossed 
a stick occasionally to keep him roused. Soon another 
joined, and between them they made the air hum. By 
this time I was thoroughly warmed and felt that the boat 
would be the best place for me. Carefully extinguishing 
my fire, I went down to the river just as the tide returned. 
Without any sign or call from the shore we were carried 
up with the tide. We were both weary but I dared not 
sleep, so I merely kept the boat away from the shores 
and drifted, while Phillipps slept. I had picked out a 
guiding star which I little needed while the current was 
running strong, but which would give us our course when 
the tide changed, for we could be carried out just as 
easily. 



332 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 

But an hour after we left our camp another light 
appeared, growing larger and larger. It was one of 
two things. Either my fire was not extinguished, or a 
match thrown down by one of the others had fired the 
deep dry grass. I consoled myself that it could not 
spread, for the sloughs and the barren soil would cut it 
off. I had a grim satisfaction when I thought of the 
snakes and how they would run for the desert land. This 
was a real guiding star, growing larger and larger as we 
were carried up the stream. I slept on shore when the 
tide would take us no farther. Phillipps got breakfast. 
We were now about three miles from the slough. After 
breakfast we alternately towed the boat, for there was 
no wind to carry us up this morning, and two hours later 
arrived at the diverging streams. Near by we saw some 
mules showing evidence of having been worked. It was 
clear now that the ranch was near. There was still a 
chance that we would take the wrong stream. Over on 
the opposite side was a tall cottonwood tree. This I 
climbed, and had the satisfaction of seeing some kind of a 
shed half a mile up the east stream. The land between 
proved to be a large island. As we neared the building 
two swarthy men emerged and came down to the shore. 
*'Buenas dias," Al called as we pulled in to the landing. 

"Buenas dias, Seiior," they answered with a smile. 

They were employees of the Rancho La Bolso, which 
was a half-mile up the stream. 



THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA 



333 



Did we make the big fire which had burned until 
morning ? 

Our answer seemed to relieve their minds. 

What would we do with our boat ? It was theirs to 
do with as they pleased. Leading two horses from out 
of the building, they mounted and told us to climb on 
behind, and away we rode across some water-filled sloughs. 
Hidden in the trees we came to the buildings — three or 
four flat-topped adobe houses. Some little brown chil- 
dren scattered to announce our coming. 

As we dismounted two white men approached. 
"Why, hello, Phillipps !" the ranch boss said when he 
saw my companion. "This is a long walk from Yuma. 
You fellows are just in time to grub !" 



THE END 



APPENDIX 



The parties who have made extended voyages through 
one or more of the canyons of the Green and Colorado 
rivers, and the order of their leaving, according to 
Dellenbaugh, are as follows : 

Major J. W. Powell left Green River, Wyoming, 
May 24, 1869; arrived at the Virgin River with five of 
his party, six in all, Aug. 30, 1869 — was met there by 
some Mormons who had been ordered to be on the look- 
out by Brigham Young. The party were distributed as 
follows : 

The boats : i. Emma Dean. J. W. Powell, John C. Sum- 
ner, Wm. H. Dunn. 
2. Kitty Clyde's Sister. Walter Powell, G. Y. 
Bradley. 
, 3. No Name. O. G. Howland, Seneca How- 
land, Frank Goodman. 
4. Maid of the Canyon. Wm. R. Hawkins, 
Andrew Hall. 

Notes. F. Goodman left the party at the Mouth of 
the Uinta. The No Name was wrecked in Lodore 
Canyon. O. G. Howland, Seneca Howland, and Wm. 

335 



336 APPENDIX 

H. Dunn left the party when about twenty-five miles 
from the mouth of the Grand Canyon, and were killed 
by the Shewits Utes near Mt. Dellenbaugh. Sumner 
and Hall went on down to the Gulf of California. 

The second Powell expedition left Green River, 
Wyoming, May 22, 1871, taking advantage of the high 
water, which is desirable on the Green River. They 
arrived at the Mouth of the Paria, Oct. 22, 1 871. Start- 
ing again from the Paria (Lee's Ferry) Aug. 17, 1872, 
they passed through Marble Canyon and nearly 100 miles 
of the Grand Canyon, reaching the mouth of Kanab Can- 
yon Saturday, Sept. 7, 1872. Here the voyage was discon- 
tinued on account of high water, rising higher each day. 
The crews of this party were distributed as follows : 

1 871. I. Emma Dean. J. W. Powell, S. V. Jones, F. S. 
Dellenbaugh, J. K. Hilliers. 

2. Nellie Powell. A. H. Thompson, John F. Stew- 

ard, F. M. Bishop, F. C. A. Richard- 
son. 

3. Canonita. E. O. Beaman, W. Clement Powell, 

Andrew C. Hatton. 

Notes. Richardson left in Brown's Park ; Beaman, 
Steward, and Bishop at the end of the first season. The 
boats had been badly pounded, the Nellie Powell very 
much so, and she was left at Lee's Ferry. The party 
proceeded as follows : 



APPENDIX 337 

1872. I. Emma Dean. J. W. Powell, S. V. Jones, F. S. 
Dellenbaugh, J. K. Hilliers. 
2. Canonita. A. H. Thompson, W. Clement 
Powell, A. C. Hatton. 

H. M. Hook with fifteen miners in crude boats left 
Green River, Wyoming, June i, 1869. H. M. Hook and 
one other were drowned in Red Canyon, and the expedi- 
tion was abandoned. 

Earlier parties to attempt descent: 1825 — Wm. 
H. Ashley and party to Brown's Park. 1849 — Wm. L. 
Manly and party to Uintah Valley. The name D. 
Julian, Mai 1836, occurs carved in the walls in Labyrinth 
Canyon, and again in Cataract Canyon. No further 
record at present. 

Brown-Stanton 

This expedition left Blake (Green River, Utah) May 
25, 1889, 16 men with 6 boats (very light). The entire 
party was Frank M. Brown, chief, Robert Brewster 
Stanton, chief engineer, John Hislop, C. W. Potter, 
T. P. Rigney, E. A. Reynolds, J. H. Hughes, W. H. Bush, 

Edward Coe, Edward , Peter Hansborough, 

Henry Richards, G. W. Gibson, Charles Porter, F. A. 
Niins, T. C. Terry. 

Notes. Brown, Hansborough, and Richards were 
drowned in Marble Canyon. The expedition was tem- 



338 APPENDIX 

porarily abandoned in lower Marble Canyon. Hughes, 
Terry, and Rigney left at Glen Canyon, Reynolds left at 
Lee's Ferry, and Harry McDonald joined the party. 

Stanton 

Stanton re-outfitted with heavy boats, 22 feet long, 
and began the second trip in Glen Canyon. This party 
included R. B. Stanton, Langdon Gibson, Harry McDon- 
ald, Elmer Kane, John Hislop, F. A. Nims, Reginald 
Travers, W. H. Edwards, A. B. Twining, H. G. Ballard, 
L. G. Brown, and James Hogue. They entered the head 
of Marble Canyon Dec. 28, 1889, and finished at tide 
water in the Gulf of California, Apr. 26, 1890. One 
boat wrecked in the Grand Canyon. Purpose of trip, 
survey for a railroad. 

Notes. Nims had a fall in Marble Canyon, which 
broke his leg. He was taken out over a 1700-foot wall 
and carried over the plateau to a point where he could 
be hauled out by wagon. McDonald left the expedition 
near the upper end of the Grand Canyon, Hogue and 
one other left at Diamond Creek. 

Galloway 

Nathan Galloway left Green River, Wyoming, in the 
autumn of 1895 and went to Lee's Ferry. Late in 1896 
N. Galloway and Wm. Richmond left Henry's Fork, 
Wyoming, and reached Needles, Feb. 10, 1897. Gallo- 



APPENDIX 339 

way passed down as far as the Uintah Valley five times, 
and through Desolation and Gray canyons seven times, 
through Cataract three times, and the Grand Canyon, 
once before making the trip with Julius F. Stone. 
Galloway was a trapper. 

Flavell 

On Aug. 27, 1896, George F. Flavell and one com- 
panion, name unknown, started from Green River, 
Wyoming, and went to Yuma, Arizona, which was reached 
Dec. 1896. They had one boat; flat-bottomed. Little 
is known about this expedition. Prospector or trapper? 

RUSSELL-MONNETTE 

Charles S. Russell, E. R. Monnette, and Bert Loper, 
in three steel boats, left Blake (Green River), Utah, Sept. 
20, 1907. Russell and Monnette reached Needles in Feb. 
1908 with one boat. Purpose, prospecting. 

Notes. Loper's boat was punctured in the lower end 
of Cataract Canyon, and he held up to repair while the 
others continued to prospect as far as Lee's Ferry. After 
a long wait they proceeded with the trip. Loper arrived 
shortly after, but discontinued the trip when he found 
he was left behind. A second boat was lost in the Hance 
Rapid. The third boat was torn away from them, while 
lining it in the Hermit Creek Rapid. They climbed the 
granite, and followed a trail which took them to the camp 



340 APPENDIX 

of L. Bouchre, a prospector. The boat was found the 
next day with three holes in its side, in a whirlpool five 
miles below the Hermit Creek Rapid. The boat was re- 
paired and the voyage completed to Needles. 

Stone 

Julius F. Stone of Columbus, Ohio, accompanied by 
Nathan T. Galloway, Chas. S. Sharp, S. S. Denbeudorff, 
and R. A. Cogswell (Photographer), outfitted with four 
flat-bottomed boats, left Green River, Wyoming, Sept. 
12, 1909, and reached Needles Nov. 15, 1909, with all 
boats in good condition, and with the remarkable record 
for Stone and Galloway of having brought their two 
boats through without an upset. 

Notes. Sharp discontinued the trip at Glen Can- 
yon, and one boat was left at this place. Purpose, 
photographic exploration. 

KOLB 

On Sept. 8, 191 1, Emery C. Kolb, James Fagin, and 
Ellsworth L. Kolb, outfitted with two flat-bottomed 
boats, left Green River and arrived at Bright Angel 
Trail, Nov. 16, 1911. James Fagin left the party at the 
mouth of Lodore Canyon. On Dec. 19, Herbert Lauzon 
joined the party at the Grand Canyon for the trip to 
Needles ; Ernest V. Kolb was taken along for a twenty- 
five mile ride to the end of the Bass Trail. Lauzon fin- 



APPENDIX 341 

ished the trip at Needles with the Kolb brothers, Jan. 18, 
191 2. Purpose, moving pictures and photographs. In 
May, 191 3, E. L. Kolb made the trip from Needles to the 
Gulf, travelling on the high water and making the 400- 
mile run in 8 days. 



THE HISTORY OF CATARACT CANYON 

J. S. Best and party left Green River, Utah, July 
10, 1 891. Wrecked in Cataract Canyon. No lives lost. 

There are incomplete records of nine parties who 
have attempted to pass through Cataract Canyon, and 
who undoubtedly met with fatalities. On two occasions 
a single member escaped and reached the Hite ranch 
In a famished condition. 

John Vartan, an Armenian prospector, lost his boat 
and barely succeeded in escaping. His clothes were 
made into a rope by which he dropped from a ledge 
to a canyon, through which he reached the Land of 
Standing Rocks. He was found after weeks of exposure, 
during which time he lived on plants and roots. He 
was nursed back to life, but never gave a very clear ac- 
count of his experiences. 

A. G. Turner, the Glen Canyon prospector, made 
a successful passage through the rapids of this canyon 
in 1907. 



342 APPENDIX 

The Stone expedition found a wrecked boat and fresh 
tracks of three persons, one of these being a boy's tracks, 
on the shore. No further trace of them has been dis- 
covered. 

Charles Smith wrote us that he succeeded in getting 
through after we saw him in 191 1. 

In 1912 Smith and Galloway combined and passed 
through in safety. Near Dark Canyon they found the 
decomposed body of a man on a rock in mid-stream. 
From odors, they judged there were other bodies in 
other places not far from this find. 

Just before this book goes to press we have received 
two letters, one from Mr. J. F. Stone, stating that Gal- 
loway had died a natural death. Another letter is from 
John Hite, informing us that his brother Cass Hite was 
dead. In the same letter he states that Smith left 
Blake, Utah, for the third time, in November, 191 3, and 
had never showed up at his home. Later he and Loper 
found half of his wrecked boat. A full heart pays tribute 
to the memory of Smith. 

So it goes on from year to year. Judging by these 
experiences it would seem that the carefully planned 
expeditions, especially those with covered boats con- 
taining air chambers, succeed in getting through. 

The writer believes that a passage can be made through 
Cataract Canyon, in low water, without being com- 
pelled to run more than one or two bad rapids, if great 



APPENDIX 343 

care is taken while crossing from one shore to the other 
between the rapids. With a light canvas boat, or 
with a canoe in the hands of experts, it might be possible 
to avoid them all, but I would not care to be so quoted, 
as I am a little uncertain about the two last bad rapids. 
This would not be possible in Marble or the Grand 
Canyon. The last mentioned contains many rapids as 
bad as any in Cataract Canyon. We find that all those 
who have made successful passages are infatuated with 
their type of boat. All we will claim for our type, which 
came to us through Stone and Galloway, is that three 
expeditions have used this type of boat, and they all 
— with the exception of one in perfect condition left by 
Stone's party with Hite — finished at Needles. But 
whether made of steel, wood, or canvas, all boats should 
be decked as much as possible to keep out the powerful 
waves, and should contain large air chambers. Row- 
locks, oars, paddles, and ropes should be carefully guarded 
against breakage and loss. 

The flood stage on the Colorado River, about 300,000 
cubic second feet, exceeds that on the St. Lawrence River 
at Niagara Falls, which carries about 250,000 cubic second 
feet. The descent in many rapids on the Colorado equals 
that of any section of the St. Lawrence, excepting Niagara 
Falls. In the low water stage, the rapids lose much of 
their strength of current and violence of waves, and the 
flow is only a small fraction of the flood stage. 



344 



APPENDIX 



The deepest canyons of the Green and Colorado 
rivers, their length, approximate depth, and the fall of 
the river are as follows. These figures are compiled from 
"A Canyon Voyage," U. S.G. S. maps, and other sources. 



Length in 
Miles 



Greatest Depth 
IN Feet 



Approximate 
Descent 



Flaming Gorge 
Horseshoe 
Kingfisher 
Red 

Lodore . . . 
Whirlpool . , 
Split Mountain 
Desolation . . 
Gray . . . , 
Cataract . , 
Marble . . . 
Grand Canyon 



35 



20^ 

14 
9 

97 
36 
41 
65I 
217 



2700 

2700-3000 ^ 
2200 
2000 
2700 
2000 

2700-3000 ' 
3500 
5000-6000 * 



350 

425 

140 

90 

550' 

430 

480 

1850 



The entire distance from Green River, Wyoming, to 
the tide water is something over 1600 miles. The descent 
is a little over 6000 feet. About 4300 feet of this descent 
occurs in 500 miles of the canyons listed above; 2330 
feet comes in Marble Canyon and the Grand Canyon, 
the two combined making an unbroken canyon of 283 
miles. 

* Peaks close to the canyon reach a height of 3000 ft. above the river. 
' The upper half of Desolation Canyon has no rapids. 

* Maps give depth as 2700 ft. We believe some walls are higher. 

* Greatest depth on the south side of the Grand Canyon is near 5000 ft., on the 
north rim about 6000 ft. 



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